Poetic
by N.E.P.tunes.out
Summary: Emily Greene has always been poetic, though usually with her fists. When coincidence lands her working alongside her four best friends in LA, the kinds of "poetic" she can get expands. And as she grows feelings for one of her best friends. KendallxOC
1. Big Time Audition part one

**Summary: Emily Greene has always been poetic, though usually with her fists. When coincidence lands her working alongside her four best friends in Hollywood, the kinds of "poetic" she can get expand as she grows up. And as she grows feelings for one of her best friends. KendallxOC**

**Rating: T for teen because what I write is generally in that area. There will be violence. There will be some perverted jokes and sexual references. There will not be any smuttish anything! Ever. Nor will there be anything suicidy or druggy or whatever. It's just a simple teen fanfic. Oh, and there will be minor language.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush or… anything. Technically, I didn't pay for Emily or other OCs, so I don't own them, either? But I do claim them as creations of my imagination and boredom! So don't steal them! Or I will sic something on you (what I haven't decided yet)! Oh! And, two poems are featured in this chapter: "Nothing Gold Can Stay" and "The Road Not Taken", both by Robert Frost.**

Sixteen year old Emily Greene stood on the icy field of her Minnesota high school. Winter was in full swing and each breath that puffed out of her full lips took on a substantial appearance. Clutched carefully in her hands was a familiar hockey stick, the weight reminding her that she needed to keep her head in the practice game. Distracting the blue eyed female was _the_ impending interview. After practice with the school's girl's field hockey team, the aggressive player was to shower (without proper time to do so at home, she was stuck in the locker room showers), change into appropriate attire (that outside of an interview she would _never_ wear) and drive off to said interview, trying to land an internship with the rather large, every sort of job encompassing company: RCM CBT Globalnet Sanyoid. What the heck specific internship she was trying to win, she did not know. But she was one hundred percent ready for it. As long as nothing held her up, all would be perfect.

Every sprinkler on the field turned on.

Emily was soaked.

Something was about to hold her up.

BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIG TIME AUDITION

Four of five best friends stood before the field of their high school, bags slung over shoulders. Blond leader, Kendall Knight, stared down that the metal contraption that provided such a delicious opportunity. Blue beanie on head, he gestured towards the metal T, lips pulled up into a smile.

"Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime," he stated. "And when they do, you gotta grab it and turn that thing big time." Beside him, Carlos Garcia stared. Contemplation was not necessary. The plan sounded absolutely fun. Consequences had yet to enter his head, like usual. They had, however, entered the thoughts of always thinking Logan Mitchell, the smartest of the quintet.

"Turn it and I predict an ninety percent chance of bodily harm. And I'm talking about us, not them," the dark haired boy said, pointing towards the girls playing roughly as always. A lot of the players on that field were pretty scary. They certainly were not the average teenage girls. And one of the girls likely to be on that field? She could be terrifying.

"Wimp!" Carlos accused, pulling his helmet onto his head. He was so getting in on this action! Girls in wet clothes? Soaked? Freezing? Funny and awesome! Prepared, he gave the black protective plastic two pats in his typical fashion before diving down to the bar, grunting as he tried to move it himself. Amused, Kendall watched. Paying zero attention, James Diamond continued to run his lucky comb through brown locks he was absolutely proud of.

"It's stuck," the Latino said, still pushing.

"I had my pop star dream again last night," James announced, clearly ignoring what had transpired. "This time I was wearing my lucky white V neck and I sang a Smoky Robinson song." The pretty boy slipped into the classic, soulful vocals cutting off when, finally, he realized that something was going on. "What are we doing?" he asked.

"A janitor left a T bar in the sprinkler valve and do you wanna help us soak the girl's field hockey team? Emily's out there right now," Kendall filled him in, grin ever present.

"Yeah!" James's lips curled up in a similar fashion and immediately he moved to help Carlos, Kendall doing the same.

"If Emily's on the field," Logan tried to dissuade the others, "then I predict a ninety-_nine_ percent chance of bodily harm!" Their very tomboy, only female, best friend was _not_ known for being gentle. But the other three paid him no heed. Instead, they all took hold of the bar, looking back at the smart boy, waiting for him to join. With a sigh, he shook his head and muttered an ever common saying of his, "I gotta get new friends." Dropping his backpack, he conformed to their wishes.

Matching grins on all four faces, Kendall, Logan, James and Carlos pushed and shoved, forcing the bar to move, grunting from the force. Suddenly, the T bar gave way, jarring to one side. The sprinklers began to spray water and the girls on the field jumped. They screamed. They clearly hadn't been expecting _that_ and it was _hilarious_. The boys busted up laughing. Until they realized that the entire very wet and very angry group of girls were charging towards them, still screaming.

"And now we run," Kendall said and the panicked cries of the four boys joined the calls of their pursuers. The chase began, athletic legs of the hockey playing boys barely outrunning those of the hockey playing girls. Shooting a glance back, four of the troublesome quintet increased their cries. At the head of the angry pack? The fifth of the quintet: Emily Greene. And it had been a long time since any of them seen her looking so mad.

"This is what it's gonna be like when I'm famous!" James shouted. "Only the girls won't be trying to kill me!"

"If you live that long, Diamond!" Emily shouted, screams of her teammates' agreement rising behind her. Suddenly, the males were missing. And the girl had a pretty good idea as to where her four best friends had disappeared to.

Popping up in the dumpster they had hidden in, the boys caught their breath, all except Carlos who appeared, helmet tilted back, sandwich between teeth. The other three looked at him, stuck between moderate surprise (it was Carlos, they couldn't be _too_ surprised) and disgust. A dumpster sandwich? Seeing the looks, the Latino offered his friends a bite.

And Emily, completely correct, turned around, leading the livid players back to the dumpster.

"Go! Go! Go!" One of the boys repeated the cry and the four jumped out, sprinting again, though they were all very aware that they weren't getting out of this safely. Emily knew where all four of them lived and by the look on her face? She wouldn't hesitate to lead the others there. Trying to throw the horde off, the boys dashed into what they thought was a simple alleyway, an open space between two buildings, a straight through. And they were wrong, finding themselves cornered against a brick wall. Beating at it desperately, the boys tried to knock it down, tried to escape. As the screaming rose in volume, as it neared neared, the four turned around to face their fate. The normally average shade of Emily's skin was flushed, from exertion and anger, pretty face contorted into something else. How much time was being wasted because her four best friends had decided to be idiots?

"Woah, time out!" Kendall called, making the universal sports sign. The raised hockey stick in Emily's hands lowered, dull red piece of equipment pushed out to pause the other girls. If Kendall was stopping them, it was for a good reason. And, it was _Kendall_. The brown haired teen knew that he would be a man and take the beating he had pretty much earned (chances were that the entire venture was his idea). "Give James the helmet," the blond stated, and Carlos quickly removed it from his head, passing it to the pretty boy. "You gotta protect The Face," Kendall added. "Right," Carlos agreed as James grasped the plastic. Terror etched its way onto the Latino's face. Successfully, tall, tan and pretty placed the protection on his head, fear for helmet hair erased in fear for his face. The metal guard was pulled down.

"I love you guys," he spoke, as though they were his last words. Again, by the sheer look of rage on their violent best friend's face? It was quite possible.

With a shrug, Kendall said, "Time in."

And the soaked, freezing girls field hockey team bore down on the four boys. The alley filled with screams.

BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION

Emily absolutely could not _believe_ that her friends had done that to her. Wait. Scratch that. She absolutely could believe it because the four boys she had bonded with since Peewee Hockey at age four were absolutely stupid and crazy and insane. Not that she herself wasn't exactly the same way. But the teen had never acted stupid or crazy or insane at such a crucial time. Granted, the boys probably hadn't _known_ that she had an interview after practice (it hadn't come up in conversation aside from a "We all hanging out after school today?" "Practice." "After?" "Busy."), but still. Was soaking the field necessary? No.

And Emily had lost her shower time, something that set her pink lips initially into a pout and then into a scowl. She had been forced into a black knee length pencil skirt, crisp white button up and professional black jacket, all wet and sweaty. Her long hair had been matted and gross and needed a cleaning. But a forceful brush had thrust its way through and her untamed straight hair became tamed, pulled back into a thick bun at the base of her neck, the usual face framing 'bangs' tucked back with bobby pins. Not only was the teen uncomfortable in the get up, but she was uncomfortable with her sticky body. At least the actual interview part had gone well. Fascinated with psychology, poetry, generally smart and a _very_ good liar, Em had aced the questions and put up a pleasant, professional front. But due to her appearance and poor attitude (brought upon by being soaked and just barely making it on time), confidence was depleted. Someone else was probably going to get the internship and their college application would look better than hers and they would probably get the scholarship money that was not promised but was a possibility. It was unfortunate.

Before meeting up with the guys at Kendall's, Emily stopped at her house, parking the old gray Honda Accord in the snow dusted driveway. With a dancer's balance and a hockey player's comfort on ice, making her way to the front door in unsafe shoes was done with relative ease. Hockey bag hanging on her shoulder, the teen groaned in annoyance. Moisture still clinging to her body, the cold air bit at her skin. And now she had to find house keys. As usual, the brunette discovered them at the very bottom of the bag in the last place she looked. "I really need to get more organized," she muttered, as though the note to self would actually happen. It wouldn't. Emily wasn't the type to change her ways. Especially not in the name of organization.

Quickly, she stuck the key in the lock and within moments, the warmth of her home greeted her. "Mom!" she shouted, voice harsh and the opposite of what her mother desired of her. The prim and proper woman scurried into the room, high heeled feet clicking against the hardwood floor.

"Emily, how many times have I told you not to raise your voice? It isn't ladylike," Mrs. Greene chastised, eyes that matched her only daughter's wide in warning.

"Sorry," the teen rolled her own orbs. "Just thought I'd let you know that practice is done. I finished my interview and after I change I'm heading over to Kendall's."

"I wish you'd hang out with a few girls your age, EmEm."

"I _do_ hang out with girls my own age, Mom. I hang out with them almost every day after school during hockey practice and during dance class. But in my free time I enjoy hanging out with my _best friends_."

The older woman let out a sigh, fake, perky breasts rising and falling.

"Well, do you have to change? You look so nice all feminine like."

If Emily had heard it once, she had heard it a million times. Her mother had given birth to three sons prior to her only daughter, a little girl that she wanted to rear into girly girl perfection. Under the influence of brothers Mark, Jacob and Alexander as well as their father, Em had grown up to be the absolute opposite, begging to join hockey as a four year old because it was something the males in her life obsessed over. Mrs. Greene had only agreed under the condition that her daughter would also be involved in dance. Willingly, the excited child had agreed. Hockey had absolutely changed her life. The only girl in the co-ed kid's league, immediate respect had been earned by some of the boys who at that age recognized a difference in gender. And four boys she had befriended. Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan had become her best friends for life. Which solidified her role as a tomboy.

Something her mother _still_ hated, _still_ tried to convince her daughter out of. Each and every attempt had failed thus far and Emily continued to be the rowdy, rambunctious, dress hating, make-up refusing, hockey playing, boy loving, violent, rough houser.

Sighing as well, Em shook her head. "Mom, it's the guys. Wearing a skirt around them? Probably not the best idea. But," she relented, "if it makes you feel any better, I'll wear my hair down." Offering a smile, she hoped her mother would agree. By the second sigh she received, she knew it was a go.

"Okay, Mom. I'm on my way upstairs now," Emily said, starting to back towards the steps. "So, like I said, I'm going to change. I'll brush my hair down all nice. And then I'm going to Kendall's to hang for awhile. I'll be back before curfew. Phone'll be in my pocket if you need anything. 'Kay?" Receiving a nod and yet another sigh, the teen pivoted elegantly and sprinted up to her room.

The teen's resting place was fairly simple. Disorganized, but simple. The only true mess was her closet, which was where she headed. After literally kicking the door shut behind her, Emily stripped, lazily tossing the skirt, the shirt and jacket in a corner. Still absolutely chilled, the teen opted on a pair of black sweat pants, a plain white v neck and a black hoodie as well. Ready to meet with her friends (anger dissipated, especially because she _had_ beaten them up…), the clothes were quickly tugged on. After sliding on a pair of worn black Converse, the bobby pins were tugged from her hair, damp brown strands falling to the small of her back. The brush was tugged through again, a little less roughly this time. Deeming herself ready (not that she really cared), keys were in hand again and she raced down the stairs.

"Emily!" Alexander shouted, racing around the corner. The brunette froze, turning to stare at her brother in surprise. Since when had he come home? Last Emily had heard of her mop haired, red headed brother, he was living in an apartment with his girlfriend. Near college. A few towns away. "I need to borrow your car. Please please _please_," he begged giving not a single explanation for anything. Still completely shocked by this sudden appearance, she nodded and passed him the keys. As he turned to run out of the door, she held out a hand. "Wait! I need a ride to Kendall's. Then the car is yours." Finding that a fair enough deal, the ginger agreed and drove his baby sister to the blond boy's house. Without a knock, Emily let herself in, finding all four of her best friends moaning and groaning on the couch. Was it bad that she felt just a little satisfied? They _had_ single handedly potentially compromised her future.

"The Pussycat Dolls make the pain go away," Kendall stated, none of the four acknowledging the girl's presence. Hands on her hips, both shapely, dark brows rose.

"That's because they are so completely unintelligent that they numb your brain," she stated, not a fan of the slutty group. "I understand _your_ male attraction to them. Hot bodied bimbos who look like skanks. But really. Ew." The four each offered pained greetings as she took a seat between James and Logan, where she spotted the most space. Based on the continuing groans (and tattered clothes), she decided that maybe she and the others had been a little harsh on the four…

"You went pretty rough on us today," Kendall noted, the others engrossed by the women dancing on screen.

"Sorry," Emily replied, half sincerely. "But I had an interview after school today and you guys made me miss my shower and made me almost late. I'm still sweaty."

The blond offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry," he said, fully sincere, though not regretful. Had he known, he still would have done it (that wasn't an opportunity he was willing to pass up). But he might have tried to warn his best friend first.

"Whatever," Emily responded, lips quirking into a smile. At least someone was paying attention, even if the other three weren't.

"What was the interview for?" Kendall questioned, before another groan drug its way past his pained lips. The brunette's lips parted to respond. James piped up instead.

"I'm gonna marry her someday," he said. Emily's eyebrows rose again, lips quirking into a disbelieving smile.

"You're going to marry Nicole Scherzinger? How?" Logan asked, as disbelieving as the fifth friend.

Immediately, Carlos, Kendall and Emily groaned, erupting in 'no!'s. But it was too late. James had already jumped up from the couch, feet firmly planting on the coffee table.

"I'm gonna be famous!" he announced, as confidently as always. "Sing to sold out arenas. Have like five houses." Kendall shook his head, eyes rolling. The show was as ridiculous as it always was and Emily had to share in the expression. Shooting a glance at Logan, her eyes narrowed into a glare. "You had to get him started," she muttered disapprovingly. "Now his butt is going to end up in our faces." That's what happened when one decided to seat themselves between James and Logan. It was uncool. Emily was _tired_. It had been a long day and she really did not want to have to physically stop James herself. As if on cue, the pretty boy began to sing.

"_Make the girls go crazy,_" erupted from his lips dramatically, with a spin and movement of the hips. Was it bad that Emily critiqued the dance portion? Found the flaws? Mentally corrected it? "And then marry Nicole," James continued.

"Are you done?" Logan asked boredly. "Please be done."

"No," James began again. "Because here's the part where I… shake my booty!"

Emily quickly dove out of the way, launching towards Kendall. Her side pressed to his as James jumped into the spot she had previously occupied. As she had expected, tan boy began to shake his butt in Logan's face. "I'm gonna be famous, gonna marry Nicole," he sing songed, continuing his antics and the smart one closed his eyes, turning his face away. The fingers of Em's hand curled into a fist, nostrils flaring. Her face may not have had James's butt in it, but really. Her patience for the day had worn thin. But patient Kendall simply smiled and said one simple name. "Carlos."

"Got it," the Latino said, pulling his helmet back onto his head. With two pats to the thing, he stood up, gave a battle cry and tackled James. The boys crashed roughly to the floor behind the couch. Emily grinned and glanced up at Kendall. "Thank you," the muttered, and scooted away from him. Realizing how much couch space had opened up, she decided not taking it would be stupid. So, the teen stretched out, dropping her head into Kendall's lap, her feet into Logan's. One of guys, but not quite manly enough, the position wasn't awkward. Heck, they had taken baths together from ages four to six. This was nothing. The two boys Em placed herself on shared a glance and laughed at the two boys fighting.

MTVNews took over the music video and usual host, Sway, came on screen.

"_Do you want to be a pop star?"_ Sway spoke. Immediately, the fighting behind ceased.

"Nope," Emily replied.

"Yes," James said, focus completely given to the music news.

"_Well today is your chance if you're in Minnesota. Are you ready?"_

"I'm in Minnesota," James uttered, confidence gone from his voice, instead filled with a glimmer of hope.

The camera switched to live footage. "I'm gonna be the next Gwen Stefani!" an extremely familiar blond girl spoke on camera.

"That's Jenny Tinkler from homeroom," Kendall stated, and everyone rose to their feet, standing, staring at the screen. Although Emily had little interest, this was James's dream and he deserved it. The voice of Sway overtook the audio again.

"_Gustavo Rocque, nineties mega producer of bands like BOYQUAKE, Boyz in the Attic and BoyzCity is looking for his next pop superstar. But he's even more famous for his quote in _Rolling Stone_ when he said _'I could turn a dog into a pop star'_."_

"I-I sing better than a dog," James said.

"_Sign ups are until five pm,"_ the gaze of five teenagers quickly flitted to the clock. It was almost five. The rest of Sway's words were ignored. Immediately, all of the boys looked at Emily.

"You have a car. And a license," Kendall stated. Grimacing, she shook her head. "I don't. Alexander stole my Honda. Dropped me off here." The blond had a second plan. He always did. "Call all moms now." Each and every single one had their phone to their ear, simultaneously leaving a message. "Mom. Call me when you get this message. We need a ride real bad." The different cells were set on the coffee table. Apprehension filled the air as they waited for something to ring.

"Ring!" James commanded nervously, all five seated now. Suddenly, the irritating tones of Carlos's phone filled the air. Shoving and pushing, the teens all dove for the phone, arms and elbows nailing each other. The owner of the cell wrapped his hands around it, answering as he stood on the couch. Biting her lip, Emily stared at the Latino, joining the others on their feet.

"Hello?" Pause. "Yeah?" Pause. Excited "uh-huh! Okay! Get here as fast as you can!" Smiles rose on everyone's lips. Mrs. Garcia was on her way! Or so they assumed.

"Your mom's coming!" James said excitedly. There was his dream! Within his grasp!

"No!" Carlos said, still grinning like an idiot as everyone's face fell. "But this nice lady's sending her crew over to give us a free estimate on aluminum siding!"

Without thought, Emily's fingers were drawn into a fist, arm pulled back before it was driving into the helmet headed boy's arm. "Carlos!" she shouted, though the sound was overtaken by James's own angry cry as he threw himself at the boy. About to join in the fight, Emily stopped only when a vase came flying towards Logan and herself.

"Kendall!" the smart boy said, panic darting into his voice.

"Emily has a license!" the blond announced, tossing an arm around her shoulder. James and Carlos rose up, staring.

"I already told you, I don't have my car! Alex has it and he was in a big time rush! He won't be bringing it back," the brunette said, horribly irritated.

"Kendall, do something!" James yelled.

"What are you looking at me for? Logan's the genius," the blond shot back.

"I panic under pressure! And you always come up with the answer," argued the smart one.

"What? That is so not true," Kendall tried to say.

"Yes it is," Emily threw in.

"No- I know how to get there," the leader suddenly realized.

BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION BIGTIMEAUDITION

In front of Kendall's neighbor's house with hopeful faces they stood. The air dark and cold, they were reduced to rubbing their palms and blowing warm breath into their hands.

"All you have to do is let us borrow your car. Emily here will drive and we'll shovel your walkway, for free, all winter long" the blond explained.

Slowly, Mrs. Majikowski continued to eat her meat, contemplating. "I don't think I want that young lady driving my car," she said, gesturing to Emily, who frowned. She had never done anything to that poor old woman. _And_ she was a good driver! That was why she was the only one of her friends with a license! Well, that and the fact that her mother made her test on her sixteenth birthday. But, the teen did have a reputation for being generally unsafe…

"Well, Logan here has a learner's permit," Kendall said, pushing the brunette back to pull the smart boy up front. "So, all you have to do is sit in the car and he'll drive. And we'll shovel your walkway for free."

With these new conditions, the old woman agreed and in their rush, the four boys picked her up and ran her to the car, Emily running ahead, carrying Mrs. Majikowski's things, not willing to waste even a moment. All of them were shouting. Logan asking if they had everything, the lady's purse, cane, etcetera. James shouting that they had to go faster, that it was his dream. And Carlos letting out a cry of "I don't want to break her!" Yanking open the door, the boys set the owner of the car in carefully and rushed into their own seats, Emily cramming herself into the middle. Logan in the driver's seat, they took off, of course at a reasonable, legal speed…

One minute until five and Logan was parking, the speed at which he did so probably the most reckless thing Emily had ever seen him do. Choruses of "Come on!" "Get out!" "Let's go!" "Hurry up!" "Ow!" and "Go!" rang out, meshing together as the five raced through the icy street to get in the building, to sign up. Logan nearly fell, though with the grasp of Emily, he managed to keep his feet and they continued, bursting in. James stopped at the check in desk last second. Immediately, his mouth was open.

"My name is James Diamond and I, I wanna be famous." He began to burst out a few notes and with a shrug, the pretty black woman stuck a sticker on his black vest. "Ow!"

"Fill out the rest of this sheet and wait for your number to be called," she explained, passing him a clipboard. The final four of the friends made it, Logan and Carlos cheering in success. Kendall's head fell back in a relieved sigh. "Alright, Knight," Emily grinned, offering her friend a low high five. With a small smirk, he slapped her hand lightly.

"I'm a star! I'm gonna be the next Gwen Stefani!" the same blond from the TV screen shouted, suddenly being carried through the audition doors by security. When she recognized her friends, her actions paused. "Oh hey guys," she greeted. Each of the five greeted her with a combined, "Hey, Jenny."

"He is evil!" she wacky chick warned, beginning to kick and struggle again. "I'm a star! A star!" Giving a slow, single nod, Emily waved goodbye before shaking her head with a "she's crazy" sighed beneath her breath. Glancing up, ocean eyes found the pretty woman standing in front of the group again.

"You. Name.""Me?" Logan asked. "Oh, no, thank you. I'm going to be a doctor."

"Yeah, well, I'm a desperate talent scout and you have a cute smile and Justin Timberlake made forty-four million dollars last year."

That was enough convincing for the smart boy. "Hit me," he stated, pointing to his chest. A number was slapped to him.

"I wanna be famous, too!" Carlos piped up, thinking of the money. "Woah oh-" His attempt at singing was cut off by a number being slapped to his chest as well.

"You. Tall, blond and eyebrows. Want your dreams to come true today?" the talent scout asked. Emily scoffed. Being a pop star was _not_ Kendall's dream.

"Sorry," he apologized, as the brunette had expected. "My dream is to play center for the Minnesota Wild. But I'll also consider the Maple Leaves."

"Oh," the woman said, but slapped a number to Kendall anyway before moving on to Emily.

"Mm. No," the sixteen year old said.

"Too bad," the other female replied before numbering Emily as well. The teen stared after her, eyebrows furrowed. Had that woman really just ignored what she had said? And then touched her? That was not acceptable. Not acceptable at all. If she wasn't such good friends with James, she probably would have yelled at the lady, but she really did not want to mess up her friend's chances at his dreams. Not having a dream of her own, she highly respected those who did.

"Eight ten is next," the scout stated, pushing the clipboard James held before walking back into the audition room. The tan boy's nerves took over and he casually snatched Logan's number, trading it with his own.

"Oh look," he said uneasily. "You're next." The smart one stared up at him.

"Dude! You don't sing!" the Latino pointed out.

"Carlos, that was the worst pep talk in history. Luckily, I'm a genius. I'll think of something. Kendall," Logan prompted the blond.

"Beat box," was the immediate reply.

"Got it." The dark haired boy handed Carlos his sign up sheet, shrugged off his jacket and went in to do his thing.

"Beat boxing?" Emily asked, staring up at Kendall. The girl was a mere centimeter shorter than the one who had just entered his audition and fell a few inches shorter than the best friend she spoke to. As they took seats, she placed herself at the end.

"Yeah. Why not?" the blond replied.

"Maybe because beat boxing isn't pop?""Well what are you going to do?" he shot back.

"Mm… Probably nothing. I told that lady no. And I meant it." The brunette was as stubborn, if not more, than the blond.

Suddenly, Logan reappeared and the four turned to look at him. The poor boy looked traumatized and anger flared in Emily again. Logan was like the little brother she didn't have. And she didn't like it when anyone brought that expression upon his features. The smart boy took a seat, body curled in.

"Don't go in there," he spoke in a hushed, hurt voice. "H-h-h-he's Satan. He's Satan with bug eye sunglasses!" Logan drew his knees into his chest and he rocked in his chair.

"Eight eleven," the woman from before called. Same as before James traded his number, this time granting Carlos an early attempt. "All you, buddy," the pretty boy said. Carlos sat for a few seconds longer, then popped up. Donning and patting the helmet again, he practically skipped into the room.

"Hey, Logan," Emily said gently, tone abnormally soft. Emily was a lot of things, a lot of horrible, mean things. But she was a good friend and she hated to see her those who didn't deserve it upset. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching over as far as necessary to pat him on the knee.

"He's Satan," the smart boy repeated.

"Do you want me to beat him up?" Emily suggested her usual offer. A shaken head was the response she received.

"Don't worry, Logan," Kendall reassured. "You don't have to deal with him again."

"And he can't be that bad," James added with a nervous laugh. His dream couldn't be that bad.

Carlos burst out, looking quite entertained. "Not going to Hollywood!" he announced boisterously, earning high fives from each of his friends. The woman appeared again.

"Eight twelve."

James glanced at the damning number on his chest. He was next. "Eight twelve's up." The pretty boy made a move to trade numbers with Kendall, but the blond was prepared, placing a large hand over the paper pressed to his shirt. Desperately, James reached for the small sticky note on Emily. The glare she shot him stopped his actions. "Don't even think about touching anything near my boobs, Diamond. I might pretty much be one of the guys, but I still have girl parts. No touch."

"James," Kendall started, as though Em hadn't said a word (he was the king of pep talks and she was the king, refusing to be a 'weak' queen, of the opposite). "This is your dream. Not mine." The two stood, the other three joining, and James returned his number to his vest. Comfortingly, Kendall placed a hand on each of the other boy's shoulders. "Remember, opportunities like this come once in a lifetime. Now grab onto that dream with both hands." He turned his friend towards the door and gave him an encouraging shove. "And go big time." James stumbled through the doors.

"We are going to watch him, right?" Emily asked Kendall.

"Duh," was his response. And, like the rule breaking teens they were, they somehow wormed their way into the auditorium, taking seats near the back. As they peered up over the red, fake velvet seats before them, James began to sing.

"_People say, I'm the life of the party because I tell a joke or two._" A grin overtook Emily's lips. As much as she absolutely loved to tease James, he really did have talent.

"Not bad," Mrs. Majikowksi commented from beside the brunette, who nodded in agreement.

"_Although I might be laughing loud and hearty, deep inside I'm blu-ue._" His voice broke. He looked nervous. And Emily frowned. In all of the time she had known the pretty boy, he only became nervous like that when he felt scared or intimidated, like when he was dealing with his mom. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe this music producer _was _Satan. Well, Satan could have his butt handed to him by a girl. James cleared his throat.

"Stop," the big man in the front said. "Stop."

"I'm sorry. I got a little nervous. Can I start over?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Start over. Why don't you, uh, go outside and then just don't come back in. 'Kay? _Next!_" There was that rage rising in Emily's body again. From the look on Kendall's face? He was feeling it, too.

"But I'm good," James argued weakly, dream crashing down around him.

"I don't need good, I need the fire. 'Kay? I need someone to knock me out of my seat and as you can tell, I'm still in it. Cuz you have _no talent!_"

"No talent? No talent?" Kendall was up and out of his seat before Emily could even move, making long strides to the desk where the offensive man sat. "You're the one with no talent! You haven't had a hit in ten years!"

"Hey," Gustavo Rocque defended. "Girl to My Heart by BoyQuake was a hit nine years ago."

"Oh. Girl to My Heart? Let me see if I can remember that rock classic," Kendall said. Clear annoyance rang out. Emily leaned back in her seat. Their leader boy had this. Until he needed help, she was going to keep out. That didn't stop her from being tense and ready to spring up any moment, however.

"_Girl my eyes, and girl my mind!_" Kendall sang angrily, adding a few dramatic dance moves. The boy crouched, then thrust up, powerful hockey legs launching him onto the desk in front of the producer and assistant. "_It never stops, after it starts. Cuz you're a girl, girl, girl to my _heart! Heart! Heart!" Kendall completed the chorus on his knees, throwing his hands into Gustavo's face, as if threatening him.

"Woah!" the woman shouted, trying to make space between the two. "Security!" The big men at the door were moving. They were going to put their hands on Kendall. Two against one? Emily was not going to stand for that. That was her best friend defending another best friend. On her feet in a split second, the brunette was darting past her friends and out of the row.

"Hey, here's a new hit for you," Kendall continued. "_Oh, you're such a turd! Oh yeah, a giant turd_!" Items on the table flew towards the seated scouts, blond teen kicking at them. The yellow clad guards grabbed him. Still, the determined leader did not stop. "_And you look like a turd!_" Emily threw her body onto one security guard, already driving her fists into the guy. "Get off of Kendall!" she growled. "_And you smell like a turd!_" The singing ceased then.

"Hey, get off me!" Kendall struggled, nearly breaking free until the guard Emily had thrown herself on managed to jab an elbow into her face. "Ow!" the brunette cried, losing her grip for a moment. It was enough time for the big bad security to take a firm hold of Kendall again. "How dare you!" Em screeched, _pissed off_. Now her face hurt _and_ they were messing with one of her best friends. Jumping onto the larger one's back again, she took a firm grip of the man's hair, pulling hard as she readied to deliver a punch. With an all too familiar battle cry, Carlos launched himself into the fight, onto the other man. Within seconds, James was diving in as well, onto a third security guard who had shown up. A fourth appeared almost instantly. And then there was Logan, brawling as well. Comically, Mrs. Majikowski joined, thwacking the 'bad guys' with the cane Emily had so intelligently recalled to bring. The mess continued, the amount of security growing. Soon enough, sirens began to approach.

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Escorted by police officers, the five best friends plus one Mrs. Majikowski, found themselves standing in front of Kendall's house, Mrs. Knight opening the door. Despite the current situation, Emily had quite the pleased look on her face. Sure, maybe they were in a lot of trouble, but when weren't they? Besides, Mr. Garcia was a cop. He could help lessen the consequences of everything. And sure, maybe her face and a few other places were bruised, but it was so worth it.

"Mom!" Kendall greeted, a little sheepishly, lifting a hand to wave. "Remember that time I saved you from choking? Wow, that was close. And I love you."

Silence.

Mrs. Majikowski spoke up. "I feel so alive." Emily snickered.

After some talking, the six offenders were released and the five best friends trudged their way into the Knight household. They moved one after the other, feet dragging. As they turned, they settled into something of a police line up. Although the boys kept their faces moderately blank, Emily didn't bother hiding the still pleased expression. Maybe they hadn't made James's dream come true, but they had taught those guards a lesson! Okay, maybe they had messed up really badly because James had lost his chance at his dream. The girl's smiled slipped into a frown.

"Dude," Carlos whispered, leaning past Emily to address Kendall. "How did you know those songs?"

"They play BoyQuake on the nineties channel all day at work. And I made the up Giant Turd song," Kendall responded.

"It was catchy," Logan admitted.

"It's my new favorite song," Emily joked lamely. Immediately, the joking ceased as Mrs. Knight and Katie stopped in front of the five.

"What happened?" Mrs. Knight asked, no nonsense in her voice. "The truth. Now."

"Mrs. Majikowksi tried to help us make James famous," Logan spoke up.

"But this producer guy was super mean to everyone," Carlos added.

"So I sang him the giant turd song and there was a tiny fight, but nobody got hurt," Kendall made sure to explain.

Emily shrugged slightly. "Well, nobody was hurt _badly_." Because her face was hurt. And she was pretty positive that the guard that she had selected to personally beat on was hurt and missing a few hairs. Maybe a tooth…

"And now I'm really sad," James lamented, sounding positively depressed. The brunette frowned again. Yup. She felt like crap.

"Okay," Mrs. Knight said. "Who wants a sandwich?" Smiles were back for everyone and hands raised. Fights worked up an appetite. Ready to head into the kitchen, the group was stopped by the small, but powerful voice of Katie Knight.

"Wait, that's it? That's your interrogation? You didn't put the screws to 'em or slap 'em with the hard cheese!" the ten year old exclaimed.

Emily couldn't fight a small giggle. "Ah, Katie, I love you," the teen said, teasing. She absolutely loved the adorable, puppy dog eyed girl, like the sister she never had. The brunette was nearly one hundred percent sure that had she had a biological sister, she still would have liked Katie better. Despite the glare that younger girl currently granted her.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you are not allowed to watch Fox anymore," Mrs. Knight declared, amused teenagers watching from behind the mom.

"Well, can I at least hear the Giant Turd song?" Katie asked. The teens turned back, having started leaving for the kitchen, and Kendall smiled, nodding.

"_Oh, you're such a turd_," the blond began, green gaze urging the other four to join in. Three other melodic voices began to sing along, fourth, weak but feminine vocals adding to the song as well. "_Oh yeah, a giant turd. And you look like a turd and your smell like a turd_." Between the repetition of the chorus, the doorbell rang. With a little dancing and some more singing, they five made their way to the door. As the door opened, singing turned to screaming for the four boys, Emily not quite done. "And you smell like a turd," she stated bluntly. It took a lot to elicit fear from the tomboy (something like Mrs. Diamond). On the doorstep stood Gustavo Rocque and his assistant, the former holding up a hand in greeting.

"Yes!" James cheered, breaking forward to embrace the big man. "You've come back for me." Gustavo pushed the pretty boy off, scowling. "I'm not here for you. I'm here for him." The thick black finger pointed at Kendall Knight. Cue shocked expressions. Cue "What?" first from James. Then came "What?" from the other four. "I'll make some tea!" Mrs. Knight called. Shock continued to riddle the five teenagers as the group piled back into the living room. An awkward silence filled the air as Mrs. Knight retrieved the weak beverage. Five full minutes of absolutely silence. The entire time, Emily set a firm glare upon Gustavo. Poor James was probably dying inside. And he didn't have that right to make her friend feel that way! Eventually, the tea was prepared, a cup set down in front of the music producer.

"Mrs. Knight," Gustavo started, removing his sunglasses. "I'm gonna take your family to Los Angeles and produce some demo tracks with Kendall."

The blond stared, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"It'll take three months. We'll take care of all of your expenses," the assistant, whom they learned was named Kelly, explained.

"Kendall," Gustavo spoke, abnormally high. Emily had an odd desire (that wasn't so odd for her), to punch his voice normal. "You have a gift. You have the fire." Was it just Em or was that finger wiggle too mockingly similar to James's when he was showing off The Face? "You also have anger management issues." At that the teenage girl burst out in laughter, drawing the gaze of everyone. The others who knew Emily couldn't help but chuckle a little, too (except upset James). _She_ was the one known for her anger problems. Kendall's temper issues paled in comparison to hers. Eventually, the teen ceased her laughter. It was supposed to be a serious moment. Here these people were, offering one best friend the opportunity of a lifetime, an opportunity that another best friend had been vying for for years. "Excuse me," Emily said. "Continue."

"Right. Some people say I have anger management issues." Emily cut Gustavo off again with another snort of laughter. With the horrible things he had said and shouted? That was no surprise. As if to emphasize his point, the man's voice rose. "But I also have _five houses!_" A small break of silence entered the room, until James's vocals picked up again, desperately. "_People say I'm the life of the party be-_" His attempt was ended prematurely by Gustavo, raising a silencing hand and stating a simple "Stop it. Please. Don't ever do that again."

Despite the casual way in which the man had spoken the statement, Emily was bothered by it. Very bothered by it. It was such a shut down to James who really deserved to continue. The voice he had been gifted with wasn't something that should be forever stopped.

"Thank you."

"Kendall, we've traveled to twenty-two cities. We've auditioned over twenty thousand people and Gustavo's picked you," Kelly explained. That smug expression on Gustavo's face? Yeah. Emily wanted to slap it off.

"But I'm not a singer," Kendall bluntly argued.

Katie shook her head at him. "You sing all of the time. In the car, at the table. You sing to me when I can't sleep at night."

"No I don't," the blond tried to lie, probably well aware of the fact that his brunette female friend would use it against him (despite the fact that she found it precious).

"Yes you do, honey," Mrs. Knight interjected.

"When you shovel the driveway," Katie continued. "When you answered the door two minutes ago."

"But that's not singing."

"Yes it is, honey."

"And, he's always singing along to the nineties channel."

"Katie!" Kendall warned, frustrated by the various embarrassing facts his sister was spewing out.

"So?" Gustavo grinned. "What do you say, kiddo, huh? Want to go out to LA and be molded and shaped into a big old star? By _the_ Gustavo Rocque?"

Expectantly, everyone leaned forward, fixated on Kendall. His response had the power to be life changing, for each and every single person in the room. Slowly, his own green gaze shifted over each of his friends, his mom, his sister. His stare stopped on Gustavo and the simplest answer fell from his lips.

"No."

The teacup in Gustavo's grasp shattered, and Emily was silent long enough to mentally commend the man on actually breaking glass like that and then to be mad that he had destroyed Mrs. Knight's teacup. When Carlos's bark of laughter surrounded her, the teen couldn't help but join in. Was that a laugh of relief as well as amusement? However, a glance at James's broken hearted, disappointed face immediately shut the pair up. Maybe this wasn't such a laughing matter…

"I'm gonna need to take a minute," Gustavo stated with surprising calm. "I'm gonna take a minute right now." He rose from his seat and stalked out of the house. Kelly counted out a few bills, dropping them to the coffee table. "For the teacup," she explained. Something shattered outside, everyone jumping except for the woman holding the cash. With a sigh, she doled out more. "And the planter outside." More breaking. A car alarm. The rest of the wad she set down. Shouts outside joined. Emily rose to her feet, prepared to yell at the man outside. Who was he to think it was okay to just break things that weren't his? Money didn't solve everything! But the gaze Mama K shot her had the teen falling back in her seat, out of respect.

Offering Kendall a small rectangle of paper, Kelly spoke a final time. "Here's my card. If you change your mind, call. You should think about this, Kendall. We leave tomorrow at two." As the woman left, Katie delivered a firm smack to the back of the blond boy's head, calling him an idiot as she did so. Stalking off to her room, the petite child stole a bill off of the table. "I'm taking a twenty," she sneered. Everyone simply stared.

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All of that night, Emily lay awake in her queen sized bed, tossing. Turning. Staring at the ceiling, music filtering through earbuds to weave its tune into her mind. Thoughts racing the entire time. Friday night came and went and the teen grew more conflicted as each hour passed. Kendall still had the opportunity to leave, to call that producer and have an opportunity at fame. Every selfish bone in her body thanked the heavens for his decision, to stay and remain her leader best friend. But logic berated her. He _had_ to take that job. Wasn't it Kendall who had told James yesterday (was it really just yesterday?) that opportunities like this came once in a lifetime? If he ignored this chance, it had the overwhelming potential to be a lifelong regret. And if anyone deserved to have no regrets, it was her confident best friend.

Maybe singing pop music _wasn't _Kendall's dream, but it could be. Hockey was the most amazing sport in the world, in Emily's biased mind, and to play on a real team would be such an honor. But Katie was right, something the brunette hadn't realized until it had been thrust in her face. Kendall sang _a lot_. To sing that often had to mean something. And although James was known between the five as the one who sang and who would be famous, the blond _could_ give him a fair run for his money. Heck, he already had. Therein lied another confounding variable. James. Could Kendall in good conscience follow through with the dream of a best friend? How would the pretty boy feel? When she had last seen him, he had still carried a devastated aura, the expression of a kicked puppy. Would he be mad at Kendall for doing what he wanted to do? Or would he be even more angry that the blond had so easily given up what the tallest so desperately vied for?

And then there was the future of the quintet's friendship. Kendall was such a vital piece! How could they function without him? They had all been together for over a decade, for over half of their lives. _His absence _would be devastating. Which pulled Emily along to another train of thought. The internship. It was kind of prestigious. It was worth so much. If results said that she had received it, what would happen with her? Would she be the one to break up their stuck together group? As far as she was aware, a lot of the companies should could intern with were far away, in other cities, in other states. Was another pretty addition to her transcripts really that worth it? Worth alienating herself from everything she had ever known?

But what about college? Wouldn't they all be splitting up after the next school year anyway? Logan was bound to go to an ivy league. Emily hadn't a doubt in her mind that he would worm his way into one of the best schools in the nation, if not the world. Kendall would go to whichever university wanted him for hockey, probably one of the better schools. James would end up in either business school under his evil mother's reign or he would run away to New York or LA for singing, acting, modeling, some sort of artistic self showcasing. Carlos would be Carlos and surprise them all with some amazing something. And Emily? Emily would hope and pray that by that time, she would have chosen a direction for her life, likely to end up at the school willing to give her the most money (if any offered her money at all). In a few years time, they wouldn't be the tight group of five. They would be split up and scattered across the nation. Would starting the break early make that much of a difference?

She was certain it would.

And that was why Emily found no sleep for her troubled mind. When the sun rose gloriously that Saturday morning, the sixteen year old stared out of her bedroom window, watching star scattered black melt into bright, beautiful orange, a gold that melted into gray, to blue. Robert Frost rose in her mind, two poems which drew roots in her already deep and mangled thoughts.

"Nature's first green is gold," she whispered. "Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief. So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay." A sigh slipping past her lips, daylight drifted into her room. Morning had arrived. Shutting her blinds to the outdoors she adored, Emily wrapped a blanket about herself, dropping onto her bed to avoid day longer. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth. Then took the other, as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear; though as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same. And both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood and I… I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Kendall was one traveler, standing before two paths that diverged in different directions. He had the option of one or the other. He could continue trying for his dream or he could make the best of the chance he had been given. Nothing gold could stay. Nothing as pure and wonderful as the friendship they had relied on, enjoyed, lived and breathed could last forever. If making a future and a life required acknowledging that sooner rather than later, well then, it required it. If the internship didn't fall through, then Emily had to take it. If Kendall had even the smallest hint of desire to try this pop star thing, then she and the others had to push him, had to convince him that it was okay. Kendall Knight really was a knight. He was valiant. He was loyal and brave. He would never turn his back on his friends and he always worked to better things for others. He would never be selfish enough to take the job for himself. He would never want to be the one to break the group up. So they would have to do it for them. And steeling now, Emily readied herself to do so.

As she ate a tasteless breakfast, as she dressed in jeans, in a boring blue and black striped shirt, in a black jacket, in a scarf and gloves and Converse, as she left her hair alone and long, as she explained to her mom that she would be busy all day and gone, as she wondered if Alex would ever bring her car back and as she walked to the houses of her best friends, she prepared herself to push this onto her stubborn best friend.

After a dreary morning that passed like a dream, she found herself standing in Sherwood's parking lot as the blond worked like he usually did, surrounded by friends who had the same beliefs that she did. It was surreal, standing there, fingers curled around a cart, ready to play their usual game when so much was on the line.

"So," Logan said, "I, uh, did the math last night on this whole singing thing and Katie was right. You're an idiot." The smart boy gave a firm shove to his cart. It rammed into a car, denting it considerably. "It's breaking right."

"Guys, I don't want to go to LA with that jerk. I wanna be here with you jerks and play hockey for our team, cheer Emily on her team, spend weekends practicing together," Kendall argued.

"But this is just like hockey," Carlos started in. "Only instead of crashing the boards and rushing the net, you're singing and dancing."

"What do you got to lose?" Logan asked.

Plenty, Emily knew. Kendall had plenty to lose. He had as much to lose as she did, if not more.

"Dude! California!" Carlos pressed. "The girls. The beach. The stars. The girls." Of course that would be on the Latino's mind. His lack of girlfriends had made him just the slightest bit obsessive. But a girlfriend had never been Kendall's problem and Emily doubted that a girl in LA would be anything special. They'd have more implants than her mom and probably faker attitudes, too.

"Yeah, but none of that matters if it's minus my best friends," Kendall stated and now guilt riddled Emily. But her resolve was not shaken. Stubborn as always, even when she was wrong, she had to be right. "Add those numbers up, professor." Pulling out his cell phone, Logan mimed calculations, to which Em rolled her eyes. He was such a little dork. "Okay. Carry the two. Ahh, nope, still an idiot."

Emily's lips parted to give her first ever, hopefully successful pep talk, to convince Kendall in nicer (when was she ever nice) terms that he should go, when her phone rang. Raising his thick, caterpillar eyebrows, the blond looked at her, as if to say 'really?'. Holding up a finger and issuing a severe warning glare, Emily picked up her cell, heart beginning to race when an unrecognized number flitted across the old screen. What if this was _the _call? Pressing talk, she issued the other end a falsely confident, "Hello. Emily Greene speaking."

"_Miss Greene,_" a familiar voice said. This was the call. This was the very same man who had interviewed her yesterday. "_I am very pleased to inform you that following careful review of all applicants, you have been selected to receive an internship with RCM CBT Globalnet Sanyoid. An email has been sent to the account you specified with explicit information regarding potential smaller companies you have the opportunity to work with. We expect that within twenty-four hours you will contact me at this number with your decision._"

"Oh wow," Emily breathed out softly. This was it. This was where she said yes because she had worked hard and because it would let Kendall off of the hook, take away his guilt. This was where she sold the next half a year of her life for no money and no secure reward, but sold it anyway with hope that it might be worth it. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I will certainly call you back as soon as I possibly can."

"_And Miss Greene? Once you've made your decision, it is expected that you will begin you internship within a week. Transportation, lodging and food expenses will be paid for._"

"I am aware," she stated, four friends staring at her quite questioningly. "As am I aware that to receive recognition for my work, I must be successfully in employment for a minimum of six months and receive no payment from the company unless a bonus is rewarded."

"_Your knowledge of what this internship entails is one of many reasons you got the job. Congratulations, Miss Greene. Twenty-four hours._"

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. I shall be calling you soon. Goodbye." With a shaky sigh, her thumb pressed 'end' and her phone was slid back into her pocket. As her blue eyes lifted to her friends, she found them staring. They expected an explanation. Especially after her completely out of character end of the conversation.

"Sir?" Kendall questioned, an almost amused expression splayed across his face. "Since when do you refer to anyone as sir?"

"Since I know that fake respect goes a long way in landing something you want," Emily retorted. Now that her decision had been made, officially made (a verbal agreement meant something), the need to be nice disappeared. "So, Kendall, if you decide to go to LA, which you should, you won't be the only one leaving friends behind." Her statement was met with silence followed by a simultaneously shouted "What?"

"Got an internship. Most opportunities are out of state. I leave in a week," she explained, so blunt that it was almost cold.

"And you weren't going to tell us about this?" Kendall questioned.

"Well, you _were_ standing right here when I actually _got_ the internship. My mom still doesn't know. _I _barely found out!"

"Wait wait. Hold up. Is this the thing you had an interview for yesterday?" the blond asked.

"Yes. I got an internship with RCM CBT Globalnet Sanyoid. And I have to work for six months. Starting in a week. Out of state. But that isn't important. What's important is you and your opportunity. I am taking mine and you should take yours, Kendall. You _will_ take this opportunity," Emily asserted. Kendall shifted his gaze to James.

"What about you? You haven't said anything to me all day."

"I'm not talking to you," the pretty boy responded.

"You just did," Emily, Carlos and Logan all pointed out.

"You know what!" James snapped, voice rising as he took a frustrated step towards Kendall. "Part of me hates you right now. No. All of me hates you. But call that guy back."

"That guy says you have no talent," Kendall spoke to James. "Made you cry." He gestured to Logan. "And broke my mom's teacup."

"Yeah, but he wants to make _you_ famous." Angrily, James gripped his cart again and shoved. The metal rolled quickly, knocking into a bag holding man, knocking him into the ground.

"Sorry," the four boys apologized, Emily keeping her mouth shut. Maybe the guy should have paid attention and not walked into the cart pushing area.

"Okay," Carlos put on his helmet. "If I make a hole in one, you have to call that guy back." With a ritual double pat, the Latino pulled the cart back. "Woohoo!" he screamed, rushing forward and jumping into the cart. As he rode, a car smacked into it. With the others, Emily let out an 'ooh'. Worry exploded in the teen. Yes, it was Carlos and he was _probably _okay, but the last time he'd had a car related injury, he had dove out of the back of Emily's moving Accord after his helmet that had fallen out of the window. A metal plate had been placed in the Latino's head. Suffice it to say, anything car and Carlos related not only made her nervous, but scared.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Emily asked Logan. The resident doctor to be usually judged pretty well.

"Yeah," the smart boy shrugged, quickly returning his attention to the day's topic of interest. "You should still call him."

"He's been on the cover of Rolling Stone," James added, pulling out a newspaper article with a rather large picture of said magazine cover.

"What other odd things do you carry in your pockets?" Kendall laughed.

"My lucky comb," James said very seriously, item suddenly appearing in hand. "And meet my ten personalized head shots." From within his coat, he produced a stack of eight by eleven inch photos. Emily snorted in laughter.

"Really?" she asked, not surprised in the slightest. This was James.

"One 'Boy Next Door'," the pretty boy held up one headshot. When he next spoke, his voice deepened, "One bad boy."

"That was an impressive Batman impersonation," Em mocked. Suddenly, Carlos stumbled over, wrapping an arm around the dark haired smart boy. "We just want what's best for you, man."

"I'm Logan," he pointed at Kendall.

Looking rather disoriented, the Latino pointed at Kendall as well. "You-," he started to weakly say before collapsing to the ground.

"Are you sure he's okay?" Emily questioned Logan.

"I think so?" was the response. "He got hit by a car for you." All attention was on Kendall. Time was running out. Two was nearing and the teens only had so much time left to convince the blond that this was something he really should do. Emily wrapped her hands around her own cart and threw her weight into her forceful push. It flipped, rolling before crash landing on its side. "Oops," she muttered.

"Yeah. Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime," James span the same story their leader had before, the same one that Emily had spent much of her night thinking about.

"You have to do this," the brunette urged. "It is going to change your life. You have to do what's right for you, Kendall. Not what's right for us. Not what you think is going to be best for your friends. If you don't do this? You'll regret it. I know I would."

"Let me get this straight," the blond said. "You're saying that if you all had a chance to go to LA with a giant turd producer and record demos, you'd go?"

The reply was immediate. "Yes." Each of the four held out their phones, offering Kendall a means to call. Raising an eyebrow with a slight smirk, he took hold of his own cart and pushed. As only Kendall could manage, the thing sailed with ease into the corral. He pulled out his own cell phone and made the call. The entire duration, the four watched, listened. After hanging up, Kendall appeared as though he regretted his decision. Emily hated to see that look on his face, more than nearly every other look she had seen. The only thing she hated more was to see Kendall crying and crushed. That she had witnessed once. When his dad had walked out. Immediately, the teens set about steeling his resolve.

"Kendall, you've got this. You've always got this. We have faith in you," Emily gave him a playful punch, something that was more of a nudge of her fist. The blond nodded, meeting the blue eyed girl's eyes for just a moment, taking in the confidence she had in him, something he so very rarely needed. By the time a white limo pulled up and Gustavo climbed out, he was ready, yet his friends still uttered words of encouragement.

"Don't think about him. Think about millions of dollars," came from Logan.

"Think millions of girls," was Carlos's attempt as they all began the long, short walk to meet the man that held futures in his meaty palms.

"Think of me as a backup singer who can spin off on his own solo career. You know, after your second album," James said, of course concerned with his own dream (not that anyone could really blame him).

From her spot partially behind both Logan and Kendall, Emily rose on point, lips leaning close to the blond's ear. "Just think of what is best for you," she whispered, before dropping from the tips of her toes to normal height.

"Well?" Gustavo demanded as they all came to a standstill, Kelly on Gustavo's right, Kendall with his shortest and tallest friend on each side, middle, matching height buddies behind him, but close.

"Okay," Kendall said simply, smirk settled on his lips. "I'll go to LA with you to record some demos." Before Gustavo and Kelly could fully gesture their relief at success, the leader of five surprised everyone with an "If! You take my buds and make us a singing group." Shock riddled everyone, Carlos shouting a "Dude!" and Logan choking on the soda he had acquired. "Soda up my nose," he coughed.

"Well you guys said you would go," Kendall reminded the four smugly.

"I-I'm sorry," Gustavo stuttered in disbelief. "Are you trying to make a deal with me? _I_ make the deals!"

"If you want me, you have to take all of us." Emily froze at Kendall's statement. Her arm shot forward, grasping his sleeve, tugging it roughly. "What?" she hissed, and so began a whisper fight. "No, Knight. Not me." He glanced back at her. "Yes you," he argued. "No, I can't. I just agreed to something else, Kendall. I can't turn my back on that," she shouted in a whisper, pulling forcefully on his sleeve again. "But you can turn your back on your four best friends?" the leader challenged. Emily fought back the urge to shout and scream that he was being unfair. She fought back the urge to inflict physical pain on anyone or anything. Instead, she gritted her teeth. "That isn't what I'm doing, Knight. But if you want to look at it that way, look at it that way. You four go to LA. Without me." Disappointment flashed briefly through the blond's eyes. But in a blink, he returned to confident and cocky.

"If you want me," he corrected, "you have to take the four of us guys." He gestured to Carlos, Logan, James and himself. Gustavo began to laugh.

"Have you even heard your friends sing? Oh right. They can't."

"Well, I'm no mega producer like you, but I know they sing better than dogs," Kendall stated. The confusion expressed by the 'mega producer' prompted a finally smug again looking James into holding up the newspaper article he had produced for the four earlier. "And you can turn them into stars. Right?" Gustavo looked unfazed. He tore the sheet from James's hands. "Is this supposed to sway me?" he asked. "I'm Gustavo Rocque. I'm amazing. I'm amazing. And if you think for one second that I'm so desperate because I toured twenty-two cities and haven't been able to find anybody, you can think again. Because there is no way, _no way!_ that Gustavo Rocque is taking the fours dogs from Minnesota to Los Angeles to make them stars, it's never gonna happen! Never!"

"So," Kendall said incredibly easily. "We have a deal."

"Yup."

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That evening, Emily sat at the desk in a corner in her room, staving off tears she hadn't felt burning in her eyes in so many years. The four best friends she had ever had, the _only_ best friends she had ever had were moving away from her forever. They were flying to Los Angeles together, to live James's dream as a pop band. And what had Emily done? She had denied that same opportunity because she had her own and because she didn't fit in the one they had taken. What good would a girl who couldn't sing be in a boy band? Sure, she could dance, but she would have doomed them. She would have killed James's dream.

It hurt. It really hurt. James had been so _damn_ euphoric after Gustavo had left the parking lot with promises of drawing up contracts to be signed the following day. One week. One week was all that Emily had left with the four she had spent twelve years with. And the other four were absolutely ecstatic. Some more than others and Logan was panicking, but they were happy. Genuinely happy and okay with leaving the fifth of the quintet behind. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe she had done it to herself, but that didn't take away the heaviness she felt bearing down on her.

So, to ease away the pain, she reminded herself that she was leaving, too. Where she was running away, she didn't yet know and by tomorrow? She had to call back with an official decision. And so she sat at that desk, booting up her laptop, ready to read the email the man she'd interviewed with the day before had sent her. An agonizing, undistracted minute passed as she waited. When the welcome screen flashed before her eyes, Emily clicked the only icon on the screen, a one hundred by one hundred image of the Minnesota Wild's team logo. A box popped up for her to type in the password and quickly, her fingers tapped out 'FluffleWuffle', the name of the childhood teddy bear she still liked to sleep with. Hitting enter, another painful minute had to pass as everything loaded. The entire time, her long lashed eyes gazed at her desktop, a blown up photo of her and the guys.

In the center she stood, on the tips of her toes, dressed in a pink leotard, pink ballet slippers, pink tights. A tutu sat proudly on her full hips. Each of the boys held a flower, a congratulations to present to the accomplished dancer who had just finished yet another perfect recital. Despite the fact that Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan didn't quite appreciate ballet, they knew how hard their best friend had worked, how many hours her mother had made her practice and prepare. And they supported her, coming to watch her performance. Carlos even proudly reported that they "didn't even fall asleep!" To which he had received a slap on the back of the head by one of the other boys.

The photo was a perfect reminder of their friendship. Kendall stood proud and tall, the only one in the photo who was prepared for the picture, ignoring the chaos around him. Logan stood beside Kendall, glancing worriedly at the other three in the photo. Carlos was tugging on Emily's tutu, laughing as he fell back into James. The blue eyed brunette had clearly shoved the Latino. The pretty boy of the group had his mouth parted in a yelp, comb in a blurry hand that was fervently trying to fix his hair.

Despite all of the chaos, they looked happy. Irritation was written on Emily's features, but her full lips were parted to reveal a happy, white smile, cheeks dimpling. Her wide blue eyes were slim with merriment. Her button nose scrunched slightly and a small brown mole sat itself below one eye. With a passing glance, one missed the inch long scar on the side of her chin, courtesy of some exploit with Carlos the teen could no longer recall.

Every icon loaded. She double clicked Mozilla Firefox and the internet popped up. Immediately, a hint of hurt eased away. After logging in to her email, Emily found the official email on the top of various other personal ones. A few were in regards to her hockey team. One had to do with another upcoming session of dance. There were a handful of forwards and funny videos from Carlos. One daring email from James forwarded a beauty website. Logan had sent her a link to an official website full of sources for research papers. And an email from Kendall was casual, a back and forth they had proudly continued since Em had made an account three years ago. He had been the first message. But each and every one of those emails sent from her friends brought an aching back. That was the opposite of her desire.

So she clicked on the one that she did want and downloaded the long list of options, of opportunities. A slow breath slipped past her lips. "Be excited, Emily," she tried to convince herself. "Be excited. You were smart enough to get an internship with frickin' RCM CBT Globalnet Sanyoid. That's huge. How many people can say that? Very very few. Pull yourself together, man. You are not an emotional baby. You are tough." With a nod, she began to read the many, many pages. The flow of information distracted her, took her away from the unhappy thoughts. Instead, she began to question yet again what the heck she wanted for her future, which of these internships would further her in the right way. There were so many related to technology, but Emily sucked with electronics. There was a fishstick one (and although she enjoyed eating fishsticks, she did not want to work with them). There was a video game company and a clothing company. An entertainment company. A missile company (that she genuinely considered). There was a music production company in Los Angeles. A company tha- A music production company in Los Angeles? "Oh my god!" she shouted in a whisper. "Yes. That one. I want. I'm doing it."

Immediately, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a number. It rang. And rang.

"_Hello?_" came a familiar voice.

"Knight! I'm going to LA!"

"_Emily? What do you mean? You said you weren't going to come with us. I want you there with us, but… you said no. I don-_"

"No, Knight! Kendall, no! My internship! Remember? I've been scrolling through all of my options and I've decided I'm going to LA. I can intern under a music producer in Los Angeles. I mean, it isn't the same, but we'll still be in the same city working near each other."

"_What? That's great! I knew you wouldn't turn your back on your friends._" Emily would have corrected him, probably angrily, if she hadn't been put in such a suddenly good mood. She wasn't losing anything. She still had Logan and James and Carlos and Kendall.

"So, you call the other three and tell them and I'll tell my mom-"

"_Hold up. You didn't tell your mom yet?_"

"Psh, no. Why would I tell my mom? You know her. She'd just be all 'oh Emily. Don't raise your voice. It isn't ladylike. Now, whatever boyish story you have to tell me, you should change your mind and instead go get a makeover with some girls and wear a dress, too.'" Emily rolled her eyes. "Besides, I literally just decided. Two seconds before I called you."

"_So I'm the first person you told? Why?_" The purely curious question stalled the girl. She could honestly say that she didn't have an answer.

"I don't know! But you need to call Logan and James and Carlos and I need to call the guy back and tell him my decision. Then I need to tell my mom. Oh frick. I need to call the guy back… Talk to you later, Kendall!" Hanging up, she quickly dialed a new number. Within minutes, her future was set. Emily was moving to Los Angeles in a week to work under an award winning music producer. Flight information as well as the ticket would be emailed to her. After arriving at LAX, someone would be there to transport her to new lodgings and hand her a large packet of information detailing all expectations. All that was left was breaking it to her mom…

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"Hey, Mom!" Emily greeted enthusiastically, flopping down on the couch by her mother.

"Emily. Voice," the woman reminded. "And don't sit down like that. Young ladies sit delicately."

"Mom, I'm moving to Los Angeles in a week." Mrs. Greene had raised a teacup to her lips and mid sip, she choked.

"Excuse me?"

"I am moving to Los Angeles in a week," the teen repeated. "You remember the internship I told you about?"

"Yes, I do. If you are referring to the one that you've been trying to get for three months, right? The one you had an interview for yesterday?"

"Yup. That one. Well, your perfect daughter got the internship. And I chose to do my interning in Los Angeles with a music producer."

"Emily Grace Greene, you can't just make these decisions without the permission of both myself and your father!"

"Mom, voice," the teen shot back. "And it's too late. I called the guy back already. I agreed to go. And I have to leave in a week. But don't worry! The guys, Kendall, Logan, James and Carlos, they all are moving to LA, too. Gustavo Rocque, he's making them a band."

"Emily!" Mrs. Greene shrieked, rising to her feet, teacup abandoned on the table, tipped and spilled. "You cannot just decide and announce that you are moving to another state! Who are you going to live with? What are you going to do about money? How are you supposed to support yourself?" The teen heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand through her long locks. Though it would have been incredibly easy to resort to usual Emily tactics and jump to her feet, shout, this was her mom. And over the years, the teen had learned how to appeal to her mother's better nature and win (or at least not hardcore lose) an argument.

Very calmly, she stated, "Mom, we went over this. When I told you that I wanted to try for this internship, I explained everything to you. I explained that it might be far away, that transportation, lodging and food were paid for by the company. We went over the fact that this is such a huge opportunity for me, that it'll look good on college applications, that if I do amazing, I _might_ be awarded scholarship money."

"I didn't actually think that you'd get the internship when I agreed and I didn't think it'd be in LA," Mrs. Greene shouted.

She was met with silence. Emily stared at her mother, long and hard, rage boiling. Had her mother just said what she thought she had said? Appealing to that woman's better nature was immediately thrown out of the window. In a flash, the angered teen was on her feet.

"You didn't think I'd get it?" she repeated in a low voice. "You didn't think I'd get it? Oh! I understand, now! Not only do you have a problem with who I am, what I like and my friends, but you don't have any faith in me! It's great to know, Mom. Really great. Glad to hear what you really think of my capabilities. Well, forget you! Okay? I am going to LA with my friends who accept me and I am going to live there for six months and prove to you that I am capable and that I earned that internship because I am strong and successful! And I will prove to you that there is nothing wrong with me. I may not be perfect, but neither are you! And putting plastic in your body isn't going to fix your flaws!" With a snarl, the teen stormed away.

"Emily, dear, I didn't mean it that way," Mrs. Greene weakly stated, voice crushed beneath the violent slam of the front door as her daughter ran away through it.

For the second time that day, Emily was hurt. This time, her usual defense mechanism kicked in. Anger. Slamming the door shut with as much force as she could muster was only one sign. The second came when she kicked the door for good measure, strong wood shaking beneath the Converse covered, size seven feet, denting beneath it. The third came after she had stomped out of her front yard, picking up an old newspaper her father had forgotten to bring in. The sheets were torn away from each other, shredded in her fit of anger. Some of the pain alleviated following her actions, Emily let out a deep, shuddery breath. Scooping up the scraps of paper, she unceremoniously dumped them in the recycle bin, earth conscious enough to do that much.

With a speed walk, she made her way down the street, stopping at the corner. Kendall and Logan lived the closest, only twenty minutes away on feet. To reach Carlos's house, Emily would have to walk thirty minutes and James's abode was the furthest away, never a consideration in her angry stalkings. Breath puffing out in the winter air, she quickly took a hold of her cell phone from where it had been residing in her pocket.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"_Hello?_" came that familiar greeting again. To hear his voice. The girl couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

"Knight. Hey," she responded.

"Emily," Kendall said enthusiastically, as though he didn't check caller ID to know it was her. "Just talked to the guys." Before the blond could speak more, the brunette interjected.

"Yeah. Cool. Hey, is it alright if I stay the night at your place?" There was no time to beat around the bush. It was late now and she was cold. "Or at least hang out for a few hours?"

"Yeah," Kendall responded lowly, as if he were trying to understand the sudden request. It wasn't as though Emily had not stayed the night before. The female was invited to nearly every guy's night because essentially, she was one of the guys. No one's parents, aside from her mother, saw a problem with it. Never had Kendall, James, Carlos or Logan looked at their female best friend with the slightest of sexual attraction. The boys were more likely to have an embarrassing dream about each other than they were to have one about her. And Emily had never wanted to be with any of them in a romantic way, either. Logan was like her dorky little brother. James acted like more of a girl than she did. Carlos was shorter than she was a little too immature for her tastes. And Kendall, well, Kendall was… he was different than the others. The fact that he was her best friend immediately took him off of a list of interest (something that applied to the others, too). "I'll ask my mom, but it should be cool. Why? Are you okay, Em?" The blond, somehow, usually knew when she was actually upset.

"Let's just put it this way. Everyone should be careful not to light my short fuse tonight." Although the brunette was generally quick to anger and quick to rough house with her friends, if she was really angry and in danger of actually blowing up on someone, she tried to give a fair warning. It did not absolve her of responsibility, but it buffered a lot of problems.

"Got it. I'll tell the others and remind Carlos a few times," Kendall said. "They're all coming over, too."

"Cool, I'm on my way."

"Wait a second. I thought Alex had your car. And you don't drive and talk on your phone at the same time."

"I'm walking, genius," Emily irately replied.

"But it's late and dark out."

"And cold. I'm aware."

"How far are you? Do you have gloves? A jacket?"

"I'm crossing the second street. Jacket, yes. Gloves, no. Why?"

"I'll meet you up at the park. We'll walk back to my house together."

Although Kendall couldn't see, Emily nodded. "'Kay. And Kendall?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem."

A few minutes passed as Emily walked in silence, the absolute cold cooling the fiery rage. When she stopped at the park, Kendall was just arriving. He brought her an extra pair of gloves. He placed his warm beanie on her head. He slung an arm around her shoulder and asked no questions. He merely sang Emily her self proclaimed new favorite song the rest of the way to his house.

"_And you smell like a turd._"

**A/N: Holy frickenstein this is an incredibly long first chapter. Other chapters won't be this long (or I really hope they won't be because man…). And a very fair warning! I am the worst updater EVER. So, unless I get lots and lots of motivation from others, it'll take me awhile to drift away from other distractions to get to typing this. The whopper you just read was written after a move whilst I had no internet. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Chances are there are errors, for which I apologize. I realize that a few things are inconsistent (like point of view, I haven't decided if I want to stick with limited or omniscient or limited between multiple characters). I don't really like what I've written, but do I like Emily. Oh, and, so you are aware. It's a LONG time before Emily and Kendall get together because Jo and Kendall are together (not that there won't be moments). A few chapters after Break Up (because what kind of friend goes after a friend immediately after a break up?). By the way, Emily will have a few boyfriends before Kendall. Oh! And, this story follows the series. With a few extra tids thrown in here and there. And I apologize that this author's note is long and I still have more to say… I realize that this general idea and character aren't completely original. I don't care. I haven't read any KendallxOC stories because I'm a Logan fan (not that I've read really any BTRxOC fanfics except like three). My LoganxOC fanfic just isn't as easy to write. So, any similarities? Great minds think alike? Because I really haven't read those others. And… note! Random, but note. nic98ole is one of my favorite BTR fanfic writers. And I love Rainboots. And Cheekybrunette is pretty cool, too. : ) And there are others I love, but those are the three that immediately came to mind, that I remember the names of. Lol? And, hope you enjoyed! Don't hold your breath for the next installment…**


	2. Big Time Audition part two

**Summary: Emily Greene has always been poetic, though usually with her fists. When coincidence lands her working alongside her four best friends in Hollywood, the kinds of "poetic" she can get expand as she grows up. And as she grows feelings for one of her best friends. KendallxOC**

**Rating: T. Language and very slight sexual-ish reference in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush or other bands vaguely referenced in this chapter. I own no people. OCs are mine. Full credit for the poem "Door of Opportunity" goes to poet Walterrean Salley.**

When Emily Greene slid silently through the front door to her home the following morning, she had not been expecting the sight that greeted her. In the formal living room hanging off of the foyer sat mother, father, Alex, Mark and Jacob. Unprepared to face her entire family (especially considering each of her three brothers had already moved out), the chocolate haired teen ceased her steps, hand on the doorknob as she stared.

"Is this some sort of weird intervention?" Emily asked. "Or am I missing something? Oh god. Grammy isn't dead, is she?" Grandma West, 'affectionately' referred to as Grammy, was well into her eighties and was swiftly slipping off the slope of sanity. Having had a serious scare a few years prior, she had been shipped into an old folk's home. It felt like forever since Em and her senile mother's mother had seen each other. And frankly? The sixteen year old was quite okay with that. As much as she loved her Grammy, Grammy was difficult to deal with these days and like Mrs. Greene, she liked her granddaughter to be girlier than she was and had a fascination for arts and crafts.

"Oh, heaven forbid," Mrs. Greene said, quickly crossing herself (though the family had no real religion). "Though, it is interesting that you bring up Grammy…"

Something was going on, something more than just her mother being awkward (which under the dark blue glare Emily set upon her, awkwardness was to be expected). The frustrated teen wanted to know what. So, after stepping fully into the room, she set her hands on her shapely hips, raising both eyebrows, pursing her pink lips. Her stance demanded answers. The continued glare demanded answers from her mom.

"Emily Grace Greene. Do not look at your mother like that. Especially not if you want to go to Los Angeles," her father warned. Immediately, the youngest changed her position, respecting the man that spoke to her (undoubtedly a daddy's girl). Glare shifted into confusion once more. Her arms crossed over her chest instead, generally less intimidating than she had been.

"Hey, Egg," Alex said, pulling up a despised childhood, big brothers teasing her only, nickname spawned by her unfortunate initials. "Since you're going to LA, can I have your car?"

"Why would you even think that A, I would give you my car? And B, calling me Egg? That's more likely to get you a fist to the face than my Accord. And, C, we're all in agreement now that I'm going to LA? Because if I recall, last night, Mom didn't think I was capable of even receiving the internship that's sending me there." There was a bitter stain to Emily's tone, rightfully so. Although a night with the guys had wound her down and lightened her up, the hurt at being underestimated by her own mother, the person who was supposed to be genetically bred to believe in her, that hurt was still there. Judging by the look on her mother's face? She felt guilty, as well as she should.

"Emily," the woman sighed, "Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I should have been a mature adult and not said what I did… I know that I hurt your feelings. So, your father and I, we talked last night and we've decided to let you go to Los Angeles. Although I don't want you to go, your father thinks that this will be a good opportunity for you and that you deserve it. But you can't live without an adult."

"Mrs. Knight'll be in the same tow-" Emily started to say, but a held up hand from her dad silenced her long enough for her mother to continue.

"And my mother, Grammy, according to late night call, she's being kicked out of her retirement home. So, we were thinking that it would be beneficial for the two of you to live together."

"Woah," Emily held up a hand, asking for a moment to absorb the information she had just been given. "Woah. Live with Grammy? I love her but isn't she a little insane? Can't I just check in with Jade and her parents? And Mrs. Knight?" Jade was a cousin very dear to Emily's heart. Although they rarely saw one another, they exchanged frequent texts. Fairly similar in personality, they got along well, though Em was certain she was more normal than her mother's brother's daughter. "And text you every day? And, hold up. Grammy's getting kicked out of her retirement home? How the heck did this happen?" She paused. "What could an eighty something year old woman do to get kicked out? Actually, I don't want to know. Is it even s_afe_ for me to live with her?"

"Emily, I understand that this is an emotional time for you," her mother had a bit of bite to her tone, patience wearing thin.

"Maybe she's on her period," Jacob jested, nudging the two brothers seated beside him with his elbows. Alex chuckled along, though Mark merely rolled his eyes. Twenty-four and settled with a serious girlfriend of two years (as well as a job and various responsibilities), Mark was an adult, through and through. And he knew _very_ well that whether a woman was PMSing, on her period or not, one was _not_ to mention it, lest they suffer. Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. Of course, twenty-one year old Jacob and nineteen year old Alexander were irresponsible and immature. They lived in apartments with friends and with girls they were destined to end things with. They attended college (Jacob at a university on athletic scholarship, Alex attending a community school). They partied. They had yet to learn that teasing a girl about her natural bodily functions and hormones was literally asking for some sort of pain.

"Jacob, I swear to God that I will hit you," Emily warned, lifting one hand for show, fingers curling slowly into a fist.

"Emily," her mother tried to warn, but it was too late. Jacob was already smirking, flipping his messy brown mop of hair out of his eyes.

"Really? I'd like to see you try, Egg," he challenged. And this was one of the big why's that had turned the sixteen year old into the tomboy she was. Years and years of living with older brothers, all who were high in testosterone, who played sports and who wrestled and rough housed with their little sister. The four ignored gender unless it bettered teasing and insults. "Think your little girly self has a chance against me? My physical prowess has me on a full ride in college."

"My little girly self?" Emily repeated, jaw falling at the statement. Her brows lowered and she stared at her brother. He knew what he was getting himself into. Immediately, she was launching herself onto the male. Thus began a fight. The two wrestled, Jacob obviously with the upper hand (half a foot taller and close to seventy pounds heavier), though the girl fared well. Her determination nearly made up for her lesser muscle. Until Alex decided he would join in.

"You ain't never gonna beat a man, Eggy," he drawled in a poor hick accent.

"I don't need to beat any men," the teen shot back, wiggling out of Jacob's hold. "I just need to beat you two losers!"

It became a full on war between the three, wrestling on the couch. On the edge Mark sat, arms crossed over his chest. He refused to be a part of the immaturity that was his little siblings. Though, as an elbow caught him in the chest? Things changed.

"Alright, that's it!" he shouted, immediately getting involved. Mr. and Mrs. Greene watched their children, most of which were supposed to be grown men. Although Mr. Greene had little trouble with it (truth be told, he was almost itching to get in the fight), the Mrs. was quite unhappy with the turn of events. Her children were misbehaving and encouraging her daughter to act so unbecoming. Rising to her feet, the frustrated woman pulled out an ill used move taught to her by friend Jennifer Knight.

"That is enough!" Mrs. Greene shouted, throwing her arms out as she did so. She hardly ever raised her voice. All fighting ceased. Alexander and Mark had each other by the shoulders, frozen in their battle of pushing and throwing weight (though it looked like Mark would have been a clear victor). Jacob had Emily, who was inches away from punching him in the stomach, in a solid headlock. All looked like deer caught in headlights, staring in awe at their mother.

"Alex. Mark. Let go of each other. Jacob, do not let your sister go," the woman stated, crossing her arms over her chest. Emily continued to stare.

"What? Mom! That's so not fair!" the teen complained, trying to cross her arms awkwardly over her own chest. It was a difficult thing to do, still bent over in the headlock.

"Emily Grace," Mrs. Greene frowned, drawing on the influence from both Brooke and Jennifer. Mrs. Diamond had Emily's fear, Mrs. Knight her respect. "If you want to be allowed to take this internship and move to Los Angeles, you are going to hear me out and you are going to follow every condition that your father and I have agreed upon."

Her mother so rarely took her authoritative role that the teen was shocked into obedience. At least, her brothers took that as the reason. Emily had simply decided that this was one of those moments where fake respect would go a long way in landing her what she wanted. And maybe there was an ounce of actual respect tucked away in the excuse because her mother had actually had the balls to keep her daughter held in a headlock.

"Okay," the teen agreed with a nod. "I will sit down, cross my legs like I know you want me to and listen like a good girl. May I please be released from Jacob's arms?" The calm sincerity Emily spoke with stunned the entire family. It was so completely out of character to give in so easily and so nicely. For a few short seconds, Mrs. Greene almost felt a flash of happy pride. Until her daughter had to ruin it. "His pits are rank and if I don't get out, I will throw up on this rug." Despite every tough inch of Emily, she had a weak gag reflex and it did not take a lot of provocation to bring her to puking. Nearly every rare sickness had her retching in a toilet. The moment ruined, Mrs. Greene gave a nod and met her son's eyes. The male released her.

"Thank you!" Emily threw up her arms in gratitude. Expectant stares came her way. "What?" It clicked. "Oh." Fighting a very serious eye roll, the talented little liar threw on a disgustingly convincing smile. With grace, she eased her body onto the couch, posture perfect. Her legs were set slightly to the side, ankles crossed, one hand rested lightly on top the other which perched on her knee. This perfect pose earned another moment of surprised silence.

"Dearest mother, I would be honored if you would please kindly explain the conditions," Emily said, as innocently as could be. With the wide eyed big blues? She almost could have passed. But her family knew better.

Following a deep breath, so began the immense list of rules Emily was to follow, the majority of which she was certain she would break. Who would blame her if she didn't call every day? Texting should be good enough. Who could blame her if she went _somewhere_ alone in LA? Like the bathroom? There. The perfect flaw to her mother's rule. Mrs. Greene certainly wouldn't want her daughter stalked into the stall. So it was only _right_ that Emily broke that one. And the "law" that she was not supposed to date? That one she was pretty sure her father had added. He had been against her dating anyone ever. She did not plan on going six months without a boyfriend. The Minnesota flavor of boys had become quite dull. Weren't those California boys supposed to be hot? Yes. She certainly would not be wasting her man opportunity. She would not be wasting the most of the opportunities her parents were trying to deprive her of. Instead, she was going to take hold of them and go big time! Just like Kendall had said. She just had to lie and pretend that she was going to be a good girl (when had her parents become deluded enough to believe that?).

"Do we have an understanding?" Mrs. Greene asked. It was like that moment at the Knight's when Gustavo had made his offer. Everyone was looking at her, unconsciously leaning in as they awaited.

"Yes, ma'am," Emily responded with a polite smile. It looked awkward on her face, far different from the usual mischievous smile or the crazy grin or the easy happy look. This was professional.

"Alright then," Mr. Greene said, slapping his hands to his knees. An awkward silence. Emily broke it.

"Hey, Jacob. You know, there's this not so new thing called deodorant. Might help with the horrible odor problem." Jacob rose both eyebrows.

"Are you trying to start things again, Egg? Because last time I was beating your ass-"

"Jacob! Language!"

"Sorry, Ma. Last time I was beating your butt. But I can do it again."

"If that fight had gone another few seconds, you wouldn't have looked so good."

"Oh? You really think so?""I know so."

"Let's put that to the test."

A brawl began again. Mark didn't bother fighting with himself this time. All four Greene children threw themselves into it, going at each other, wrestling on the couch, wrestling until they fell off of the couch.

"You all better stop if you want breakfast," Mr. Greene drawled lackadaisically. Despite the bored, average volume at which he spoke, what he had said was the magic word. Immediately, everything stopped and the four looked up at the man.

"Breakfast?" they asked all together. At the nod given in reply, there was immediate clambering and climbing over each other in a mad dash to the breakfast table. Dad made amazing pancakes. The meal went smoother than the rest of the morning. During the time all six were seated at the table, Emily made a few inquiries, wondering why her parents couldn't move with her instead, why Grammy couldn't live elsewhere, why her three brothers had been called over. As it turned out, Mr. Greene was up for a promotion too delicious to pass up for something that may or may not pan out (and, if it did, was temporary anyway). Mrs. Greene couldn't last six months without her husband. Grammy couldn't live elsewhere because her son was a dick (something Emily had always known about her uncle) and although he lived in LA near her, he refused to take her in. Additionally, with some sort of condition the old woman had, flying was advised against, taking away the possibility of her moving to Minnesota. As for her brothers, Mr. and Mrs. Greene had decided to get the entire family together for a few days before six months of separation. That and Alex desperately wanted to try and convince her to give him her car which she supposedly wouldn't need in Los Angeles, to which Emily vehemently protested. She had been saving birthday, Christmas and odd job money for years (well aware that with three brothers ahead of her, she would need to pay for a lot of her own college education). And that money could easily be used to ship her car from Minnesota to Los Angeles. In the end, it was decided that although the car would not be shipped, Alex would not be given ownership. He _would_ be given use, however. Though that arrangement did not satisfy Emily, the arrangement allowing her to go to Los Angeles was satisfactory enough.

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"Does anyone else find it incredibly odd that not only am I on the exact same flight as you guys, but that my seat is immediately next to Kendall's?" Emily Greene asked, buckling herself into her middle airplane seat.

The remainder of the week had passed in a flash. The teen had spent time with her brothers, her dad, her mother (who had helped with packing against the young Greene's will- there were too many girly things stuffed in the suitcases now). She had broken it to her hockey team that she was leaving them during the season. Most of them viewed it as abandonment and were pretty angry, certain that the absence of their second most aggressive player would be a huge detriment. Honestly, Emily worried. Leaving them was the thing she felt guiltiest about. A select few girls, however, eased that guilt, wishing her the best with fewer ill feelings than the rest. Pulled from the advanced dance courses she attended, her teachers lamented. Other students were quite happy to see her go. The gruff girl had never quite fit into the slim, anorexic and graceful picture perfect image of a dancer, thin, but muscled and (something that really irked a few of the flat girls) bore a fair set of breasts. And although Emily had the ability of grace, she didn't carry it constantly, preferring to walk around like a hockey playing guy. The four who influenced that? She hadn't seen much of them the past week as they all dealt with their own parents and their own goodbyes. But a week had come and gone and they all found themselves on an airplane to Los Angeles, aboard the same flight in seats grouped together. As Emily had pointed out, her seat was next to Kendall's.

"Not really," Carlos shrugged from the other side of the aisle, on the outside seat. Of course the Latino would not find anything odd in that. He took every cool happening like this at face value, rarely looking deep.

"I don't care because not only do I have the window seat, but _I'm gonna be famous_!" James cheered, singing a little bit.

"Oh come on! What are the chances of this?" Emily asked, loudly enough to earn a glare from the stern businessman on her left.

"I'm just glad that you're coming with us, Emily," Kendall said, giving her a smile. "Now I get to go to LA with _all_ my best buds."

"Yes. Lovely, Kendall, but Logan, come on. You're the brain, the smart. Be my voice of reason. This is a really weird coincidence, right?" the girl persisted.

"I will admit that the likelihood of this _is_ low," the flattered smart boy conceded, finally giving her an answer she wanted. "Whoever ordered your tickets and our tickets must have done it pretty close together."

"_Thank you_," Em said pointedly. "This is a weird coincidence!"

"It's a _great_ coincidence and we should just take it as it is and be content." Kendall _would_ be in a good mood. His plan had worked (like many of them did). Was that a hint of smugness on his lips? If it was, the tomboy was pretty sure he deserved it. However, that did not prevent the teen from scoffing.

"Hey Emily!" Carlos suddenly called. The teen turned in her seat to see the Latino. And he was making a face at her, thumbs hanging off of his temples, fingers wiggling as he stuck his tongue out, as he went "nyeh-nyeh!"

"Garcia! Are you making fun of me?" Emily practically shouted, earning yet another glare from Mr. Suit beside her (which for the moment, she was ignoring). The helmet headed boy's response was another "nyeh!" With a bit of a growl, the brunette practically leaped forward, only to be stopped by belt tightening around her gut.

"Oof!" she groaned and the boys seated near her couldn't help but laugh. Kendall, being the closest, received a sharp, but weak kick to the shin. "Just because you're across the aisle doesn't mean I can't get you, Garcia," she warned, turning in her seat properly now. Throwing up the arm rest separating her and the blond, Em leaned forward across Kendall's lap, body brushing against his legs as she reached as best as she could. The Latino tried to lean away, but Logan wasn't about to help to A, be crushed and B, stand in the way of something Emily was trying to do. So her fist collided with the boy's leg, weaker than he was used to.

"Ha-ha!" Carlos taunted (stupidly; it was no surprise that he and Emily physically got into it fairly often). That taunting quit when a small, but stern hand smacked him in the face from an awkward angle. "Ouch! Katie! What the heck was that for?" he pouted, turning to look at the offender who sat behind him.

"I was paid ten bucks to hit you on cue," the doe eyed girl said with a shrug, then returned to her DS.

"Emily Greene," Mrs. Knight spoke up, a disapproving stare set upon the teen. "Do _not_ pay my daughter to be violent."

"Yes, Mama Knight. Won't happen again. I promise," Em agreed. It was hard to not listen to what Mrs. K said. That woman deserved respect. She went through a lot with her husband. Despite his absence, she reared her children and did a damn good job of it. Kendall and Katie were amazing people, smart and strong, just like their mother who had worked her butt off as a waitress to take care of everything. And, on top of that, she had definite authority, but was fair. When it came to Emily, she didn't judge. In fact, the teen had gone to the older woman a few times for advice, or simply to discuss a some things she did not feel comfortable talking to her own mother about. Needless to say, Em tended to obey when Mrs. Knight said something.

Deciding that her legs were longer and a better weapon, Emily shifted in her seat again, ignoring the way the belt dug into her hip enough to leave a mark. She swung her legs onto Kendall's lap. Carlos was glaring at her, still pouting, too. He should have known better. Although the plane was getting ready to move, she aimed a kick. A falsely perky flight attendant approached. It was clear that, like a few uptight women, she did not approve of the sixteen year old girl. Said sixteen year old girl did not care (maybe she did a little…). The lady could suck her imaginary male parts (something that would have absolutely made her mother die if she even heard her daughter thinking).

"Excuse me," the suited woman said, that false cheer ever present. It was kind of annoying. Reminded Emily of when Gustavo had had a weird tone and she'd wanted to punch him. Yeah. This was the same feeling. "Please keep your hands and feet to yourself or you may need to be removed from the flight. I am certain that none of us desires that."

Emily raised an eyebrow. _Really? I'm pretty certain that by the look on your face that you desire I be removed from the flight._ "I will try to behave." The man next to her scoffed and the brunette twisted her torso awkwardly to glare. After he was silent again, the teen turned back to the flight attendant and removed her legs from Kendall's lap (who was currently trying not to laugh). Politely, Em smiled up at the attendant, fluttering her eyes with more fake innocence. True to her job, the attendant simply smiled back before turning away. To be honest, Emily was the slightest embarrassed. She was not _usually_ as argumentative and temperamental in public (unless something really set her off). To be called out before the flight even started because of poor behavior? She felt like she had failed Mrs. Knight. The woman might not have been the one who was acting as official guardian in LA for her, she would be the teen's guardian in so many ways. And so Em offered an apologetic look. Mama K smiled softly. It was okay. She wasn't in trouble. Before any more embarrassing moments could break into the ride so quickly, the pilot's voice took over the audio waves. Once that was complete, they began their descent. Heights was no fear of Emily's.

"So, Em, what _is_ this intern thing?" Kendall asked. She had been vague on the details, too ticked when they had all stayed the night to explain and following that, there hadn't been time.

"It is an exclusive, competitive internship awarded by RCM CBT Globalnet Sanyoid," she simply said.

"Is that that technology company?" Logan asked.

"Yup," Emily popped the p.

"But aren't you, like, really bad with that stuff?" Carlos asked, completely over the miniscule fight the two had gone through moments prior. Neither of them ever took it or meant it personally.

"Yeah! Like that time _you _broke my iPod!" James complained. Em groaned in frustration.

"I told you that I was sorry about that. I still don't know what the frick happened. All I did was touch it and it went black. Forever dead. I feel like an even worse version of King Midas when it comes to technology… Why are you complaining anyway? Your mom bought you the newest model!"

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that," the pretty boy said with a smile. As if to make some point, a point no one knew quite what it was, he pulled out his pretty music player. "But I still had to put my music on it again!"

"I did that for you, genius," Logan rolled his eyes.

"_Anyway_," Kendall said, trying to return to the question at hand. "Why would a technology company want a technology killer?"

"Shut it, Knight," Emily glared. "RCM CBT Globalnet Sanyoid isn't _just_ a tech company. It's a massive corporation that parents so many companies, I have to wonder if it's legal. They own a Styrofoam cup company, fish sticks-" Carlos interjected a "yum" here "-uh… video games. A lot of tech stuff. A missile defense thing. And this music company. There's more, too, but I didn't read them all."

"So, what do you get from this?" Logan asked curiously. "Is there a scholarship guaranteed?"

Emily shook her head regretfully. "Not guaranteed. But! If I last a minimum of six months, I get recognition for my work on my transcript. I assume I'll be able to get a killer letter of rec. And if I do _extremely_ well, _then_ I can be awarded a scholarship. Amount of money wasn't specified, but a few past receivers got a lot. There was this one guy four years ago that interned for two years and ended up with enough money to get through all four years of college."

"Why didn't I hear about this internship?" Logan inquired. The smart boy, like the girl, avidly looked into opportunities to earn cash for college. Although his mother's profession had earned a lot of money, with the not quite stable real estate market, Logan couldn't expect that that effort, combined with his father's take home, would be enough. Besides, he didn't want his parents to pay all of his years of after high school schooling, especially considering that med school was extremely expensive. His best bet, like Emily's, was to try and apply for free money (or internships).

"Because you usually look into sciency, doctory scholarships and internships. I don't. Besides, I'm not stupid, Logan. You're smarter than I am. I didn't tell you because I wanted it and I didn't need even more competition," the girl reasoned.

"Smart," the brain agreed, probably flattered again by the open recognition.

"So how'd you even get this thing?" Kendall asked. Emily let out something that may have been a groan or a sigh.

"It took three months. First you had to send in a general application. The usual stuff. Fill out these forms and send us a transcript. But the forms were pretty extensive. Took me days to fill out. After you send those in, a few weeks passed before more instructions were given. Essay. Spent weeks on that. After that was sent in, there was a few more weeks before there was an over the phone interview. Two weeks after that, an actual interview. The day after? I was called with the 'congratulations'. Got the internship."

"I thought your grades were bad this year?" Kendall questioned, recalling complaints.

"Bad for me. In math. Do you guys think I'm stupid or something?"

"You're in the same class as me," James pointed out. "And Carlos."

"I'm bad at math," Emily frowned. "And science. Other than that, I'm kind of smart. You guys just don't realize it because Logan's like a genius. We all have our roles in this group. Kendall Knight, fearless leader. James Diamond, the Face. Logan Mitchell, the brain. Carlos Garcia, the insane daredevil that everyone loves anyway. And me, Emily Greene, the girl." There was a moment of silence.

"We don't think of you as the girl," Kendall said, raising an eyebrow with an amused smirk.

"You're like… the tough, angry one," Carlos nodded.

"Who fights a lot," James added.

"But is still good," Logan amended, pacifying as usual.

"I don't know whether to be offended or flattered," Em said, drawing her eyebrows briefly together. It was nice to not be defined by her gender, but it was unpleasant to be defined as the angry, tough violent one. There was more to her than that. Shrugging, she brushed it away. "Regardless, I am, too, smart! Logan and I are in the same AP Language and APUSH classes. And I'm taking AP Psych this year. And I have A's in everything except for math with you guys and physics." There was a silence.

"Since when did you get smart?" Carlos asked.

There was that businessman scoffing again, glaring at the teen in the seat beside him. Emily was just about done with this guy's attitude. With a short scowl, she shifted in her seat to give him her attention.

"Excuse me. Is something wrong, sir?" she asked, that unnatural, polite smile forced to her lips again. The man was quiet for a moment, choosing to ignore Emily. As soon as she was turning away, he returned his attention to the girl and uttered "stupid teenagers" beneath his breath. Instantly, Em had turned back to him.

"Look, Mr. Business-Man, clearly _something_ is wrong. And I think that if you think you're going to continue glaring at me, listening to my conversations and scoffing at them, you need to tell me your problem."

The man flustered, unprepared for the call out. For a moment, he stared, blinking wildly, mouth opening and closing. Eventually, he rose above the pressure and spoke. "You and your friends are extremely obnoxious!" he nearly shouted.

"And your face is obnoxious, but I refrained from commenting," Emily shot back, completely calm. After her earlier trouble, she was going to keep it relaxed, or as relaxed as she could be when dealing with yet _another_ adult who disapproved of her behavior. "Look, Mr. Suit," she switched to another nickname, "I'm not an unreasonable girl. If you _wanted_ me to be quieter, all you had to do was ask nicely. You know, as a business man, you should know how important words are. Words like please. Please goes a long way. A lot longer than glaring and scoffing and under the breath muttering. How about we try again? You ask nicely and my friends and I will try to keep our voices down. And you stop staring."

The man was currently doing just that, staring. And it was completely awkward. Eventually, the still quite red in the face suit cleared his throat and coughed, in the abnormal order. "Excuse me, Miss, can you and your friends please be quieter?"

"I don't know. Can we?" Emily asked with an amused smirk. The man blinked more than normal again, as if the fluttering of his eyelids would help clarify. After an embarrassingly long silence, he finally caught on.

"_Will_ you and your friends _please_ be quieter?" It was good enough for the brunette and she nodded.

"Yes we will, since you asked so nicely. Now, you're still kind of staring at me. So, how about you take advantage of your window seat and stare out of it? Or, hey! You know what? Dude, we should become friends. My name's Emily. Nice to meet you!" she stuck her hand out at him. There was that fast blinking again. It was kind of annoying. Was it bad that she wanted to physically stop him? Hold those eyelids open so he couldn't continue? As if reading her mind, he paled and faked a smile.

"I think I'll look at those clouds, now," he said and quickly turned away.

"That sounds like fun, Rick. I like your choice." She couldn't help but smirk at the tension that rose in his shoulders upon her statement of his name. Poor guy probably didn't realize that it was stickered to the bag beneath his feet. Oh well. He deserved it for being so rude. And for being so disapproving of Emily. She may not have been the perfect person, but no one was. Just because she had a few slip ups here and there and was unashamed (largely) of her obvious flaws didn't mean that she was a terrible person. Or maybe it did. Em would be the first to acknowledge herself as being horrible. But she still had feelings and pride. Messing with either was never a good idea.

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"Does anyone else find it incredibly, completely odd and really hard to claim coincidental that the guy who has a sign for all of you guys is holding a sign with my name on it, too?" Emily asked, pointing at the obvious driver with a fair sized white sign in each hand. One listed the names of her four best friends. The second sign held simply her name. Though, she daren't raise her hopes yet.

"Maybe it's a cab or something," Kendall suggested.

"Maybe our places of occupation are near each other?" Logan added.

"Or maybe we're going to live near each other?" Emily brought up herself. Either of the latter two would make her incredibly happy. Luggage in hand, the teen took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Yes. The Emily Greene was nervous, a feeling she hated and a feeling she felt only on rare occasions, such as facing Mrs. Diamond, during interviews and when there was a spider (though that was more terror than nervousness). This was the start of a life change. Even if the internship wasn't successful, it was different now. Not that it mattered because Emily was certain she would be successful.

As they reached the man, he glanced at her. "Emily Greene?" he presumed. "Yessir!" the teen nodded and a thick, one inch packet of paper between the folds of a manila envelope was offered her. A frown overtook her face. More reading. Lovely. As much as she loved reading, this was ridiculous.

"Kendall, Carlos, James, Logan? Jennifer Knight?" Each responded respectively (Katie seemed a little annoyed her name wasn't listed). The driver began to lead them to their ride, whatever it was. As she stomped along, awkwardly hooking her suitcases to her so that she may properly hold the folder, Emily began to read. It was about halfway through the page when she realized the name of the company adorning the top of the page.

"Oh my god!" Her cry was drowned out by the matching cries of her four best friends, their excitement a little more jovial than her own. Emily was currently teeming with wild energy. Was she right? Did it mean as she thought? Was chance that amazing? As one of the guys went to high five her, she shook her head.

"Oh my god, you guys," she said, and all grinning ignorantly, they agreed.

"I know! A limo!" James cheered.

"No."

"No? But it looks like a limo." Carlos was quite confused.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure this is a limo," James argued.

"No! I mean, yes, it's a limo, but that's not what I'm 'oh my god'ing about. Look at this! Read it and tell me if it says what I think it says. Please." With something as major as this, she couldn't just believe what her own eyes interpreted. Maybe she was projecting her subconscious desires onto the paper. The brain was a powerful thing. It could easily be lying to her. Shoving the packet to Kendall, the other three boys crowded around her.

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" the blond asked. Emily rose up to her tip toes and leaned over to glance at the sheets. Her finger traced the name lining the top. There was silence as she eased back onto her feet.

"Does that say _Rocque_ Records?" Kendall asked incredulously.

"As in _Gustavo_ Rocque?" Logan continued, in as much disbelief as two other two who understood.

"So that _is_ what it says?" Emily prompted, blue eyes open wide. Was she really going to be working for Gustavo? The same man that her four best friends were working for? Had something gone so wonderfully right that she would be able to be with Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan as often as always?

"Wait, so, that means you work for Gustavo?" Carlos asked. Still completely blown away by the idea that was _actually real_, Emily stared at Kendall for confirmation, breath moving too quickly through her nose.

"Looks like it. _The_ Emily Greene is going to intern for _the_ Gustavo Rocque," Kendall stated, eyes meeting Em's. He smiled. That was when she finally allowed herself to feel it, to believe it. Kendall wouldn't lie to her, wouldn't make something like this up. Her own senses weren't tricking her. _This was real_. Elation surged through her and a carefree laugh bubbled past her happy lips.

"This is perfect!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace her four friends. The teen was practically bouncing with excitement. Every negative feeling she'd felt in the past week was erased. This beat _getting_ the internship by miles.

With as much fervor, the hug was returned. Everyone was all smiles, including the other two Knights standing off to the side. Even the limo driver had something tugging the corners of his lips upward. Unfortunately, there was a schedule to keep and the man cleared his throat. Parting from her friends, Em shrugged with a spoken "sorry?" really too happy to be bothered at the moment. The five hockey heads threw their luggage into the surprisingly spacious trunk.

"Let's get in the limooo!" James's voice rose quite happily. He was the first to dive into the stretch car, following closely by Carlos (who had failed at his mission to be first). Polite, Kendall, Logan and Emily waved Mrs. Knight and Katie in next.

"Ladies first," Kendall offered the brunette girl who rolled her eyes.

"So Logan goes next?" she teased. Said smart boy glared.

"Hey!"

"Just kidding, Loges. Genetically, you're more of a man than I could ever be," Emily continued to wisecrack, though the never ending grin radiated nothing but good feelings for all. The thick packet Kendall handed her as she climbed into the car becoming forgotten at the excitement. The leader and the brain climbed in. The door shut. This was it. They were in a limousine. In Los Angeles. In California. In Hollywood!

"This is it, baby!" James cheered. Although Emily was in one of the best moods of her life, the pretty boy had to be in pure euphoria because this was his dream. "When you're famous, you can take a limo anywhere and everywhere!"

The ride was simply amazing. Four boys crammed in the back seat row, Emily unsafely taking perch on the laps of her friends, shifting whenever it was convenient. They were in a limo! Who needed seat belts? On the side, Katie and Mrs. Knight contented themselves in very much the same way the five teens did: sight seeing. They passed a beach, Bel Air, Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, awesome cars. They drove passed the Pantages, a beautiful theater, passed stars of the stars on the sidewalk. They danced in their seats, peered out of the moon roof. They leaned out of the windows as they drove (Carlos being yanked back in by Emily the moment he tried- they didn't need another plate in his head). They also screwed around with seat belts and took a plethora of pictures. Eventually, they came to a stop at the Palm Woods, Kelly standing, waiting to greet them. After grabbing the luggage, so officially began their time in Hollywood.

"Welcome to the Palm Woods, home of the future famous," the pretty woman stated. When Mrs. Knight suddenly stopped her steps, so did the rest. Her hand stretched out and she placed it flat against the base of a tree.

"That's the first palm tree I've ever touched," she sounded positively dreaming.

"Every year, kids and parents from all over the world come here looking for fame in TV, movies and music," Kelly continued.

"Oh hey!" Kendall pointed with a smile. "There's that funny kid from the juice box commercials."

As the kid was dragged by, yelling at his mother, the smiles fell slightly. "What a punk," Emily murmured, rolling her eyes.

"Okay! You guys are gonna love it here. The rooms are clean. You're close to the studio and there is an _amazing_ pool." That was all Kelly needed to say for the teens to literally drop everything and race out to see the blue beauty. Minnesota had a lack of swimming places with all of the snow that came during winters. But this California winter was as sunny as summer. And the entire pool area _was_ amazing. Everyone looked so chill. The five rested back on lined up pool chairs, Emily and Logan sharing (being the thinnest two).

"We are so not in Minnesota anymore," James said, voice slow and soothing.

"Uh, Minne who now?" Logan replied, earning a few chuckles.

"What can I say?" Kendall asked, sitting up to look at his friends. "You guys were right."

A sudden hand took his arm. And as he turned to look? A hand struck him across the face.

"How dare you!" this new girl shouted, wearing a very distracting outfit that Emily absolutely loved. Anything sparkly, glittery or shiny was a very secret love of hers. It was likely the dress that saved this girl from getting an immediate beat down for slapping her best friend. "What we had was real! But you threw it all away for Trish! Trish! My sworn enemy! I never want to see you again, Troy!" And that was another reason Em didn't jump up to tackle the purple dress wearing crazy girl. There was obviously a mix up. Or the girl really was insane. That seemed fairly plausible. "Never!" And she ran away, crying with awkward shrieks. Confusion wrote itself across the five faces as they watched her make an exit.

"What just happened?" Kendall asked.

"You new guys just met Camille," a young voice sounded from somewhere unidentifiably near. "The Palm Woods method actress queen."

"What the heck?" Emily muttered, the shifting and staring not finding them any answers. Until Kendall hesitantly lifted the lid of the trash can.

"The name's Tyler," a little red headed boy appeared. He reminded the tomboy of a younger, chubbier version of Alex. "You may have seen me acting on various juice box commercials. Only I don't want to be an actor, I want to be a kid." Kendall had a stupid grin on his face, as if to say 'I'm talking to a kid that was on a commercial'. It was a little endearing.

"Tyler!" a woman's voice sang.

"Oh! Hide me!" the little ginger dived back into the trash can and just in time, Kendall hid him from the eccentric, large woman running up.

"Have you seen my son?" she panted, pausing to ask the quintet. "Red hair. Adorable. Born to be a star! _We've got an audition_!" Her voice went so shrill and so high that Emily grimaced.

"He went that way," the five agreed simultaneously, pointing in the same direction. By now, the utter synchronization that was common with her friends had lost its wonder in Em. But she still loved it. The woman raced away.

"She's gone." More complete togetherness. The kid reappeared.

"Thanks."

"So," Logan asked, "Is everyone here an actor?"

Emily wanted to point out the obvious flaw in the boy's question. He was supposed to be the smart one. Of course not everyone was an actor. The boys weren't actors and they were moving in. And Emily wasn't an actress, but it sounded like she was taking up residence at the Palm Woods as well. But the mood was still too good for her to bother.

"No," the kid said, and maybe Em allowed herself a smug smirk. "There's Guitar Dude. He's a 'song writer'."

"What's up?" the long haired male greeted. He was fairly attractive and definitely different than what Emily had seen in Minnesota. Maybe he was potential boyfriend material (not that she was avidly searching, but looking was always okay). As Guitar Dude stood up as if inspired, strummed a few chords and sang the lame verse of "what's up? What's up? What's up?" the tomboy changed her mind. That much simplicity? Probably not boyfriend material…

Now there was barking and Emily's attention was drawn to a shaggy dog. Was it wearing sunglasses? That was new.

"Oh, that's Lightning, the TV wonder dog," Tyler announced. Lightning lifted his paw and waved in an all too human manner.

"Did that dog just…?" Emily did not bother finishing her question. It was obvious enough.

"He's good," Kendall agreed, as well as Carlos with his nod and awed smile.

"Oh, and then there's the Jennifers. Three girls of the same name who sing, dance _and_ act." The girls strolled through the open double doors, three of them. A blond and two brunettes, one with curly ringlets. Each wore a dress and seemed to glide. Emily couldn't help but think as Tyler worked a fan that blew their hair back in a model-esque manner, that these girls were a type her mother would like. At the realization, she decided that she didn't like these Jennifers. She didn't like them at all. She especially didn't like the way the girls managed to drop the jaws of her four idiot best friends. It was as if they hadn't seen an attractive girl before in their lives! And in Emily's opinion, the girls weren't _that_ attractive. The blond in the center had an annoying face. The mocha girl on the left had a dress that was horribly short. The tan girl to the right looked more smug than the rest.

"Hey!" James called them to attention. The three turned back to the five, expressions blank. "We're in a band." Emily bit back a snort of laughter. _What kind of line was that?_

"Really?" the Jennifers suddenly seemed so excited. "Oh my gosh!" There was no way that it was genuine. As if Emily's thoughts directed the world, the façade was dropped.

"And we're actresses who don't care," said the one on the right. The boys' spirits drooped, all but Carlos who had a hard time taking a hint.

"Want to go to the movies tonight?" he asked, a broad, innocent smile adorning his lips.

"Are you guys starring in the movie?" shot back the one in the middle.

"No." Carlos still wasn't getting it.

"Then no," came from the Jennifer on the left before the right one began speaking again.

"If that seems harsh? That's because it is. Just like this town."

Emily hated these girls. They were definitely stuck up dogs of the female variety. Em didn't care if the town was harsh. She didn't care that _she_ was harsh. These Jennifers were being harsh to the wrong people. Immediately, she was on her feet, stepping before the three girls, crossing her arms threateningly over her chest. But apparently, the glare wasn't intimidating, not when given by someone wearing a pair of rolled up gray sweat pants and a white graphic tee.

"How about you shut up and go?" Emily threatened. The three merely scoffed, giggled and put their sunglasses back on, making an exit with a "later!" The tomboy felt very much like the businessman that she harassed on the flight. Flustered and blinking more than usual. "Did they just _laugh_ at me?" she asked, beyond incredulous. _No one_ ever laughed at a Greene threat. You just didn't do it. Had she already lost her touch after a few minutes in LA?

"I'm so in love," Carlos sighed, sliding down on the seat.

"Okay, reality check," Kendall swung himself in his seat to stare at his friends. Wanting to hear whatever it was the blond had to say, Emily shoved Carlos's feet off of his seat to set herself on the edge. "We have to promise ourselves now. That we're not going to let this singing thing or this town change us. We are five hockey players from Minnesota and we can never forget that. Do we all agree?"

"Yes," the other four said, Emily adding a "sir" to the end. Kendall rose an eyebrow.

"More fake respect to get what you want?" he asked with a hint of confusion.

"Nah," Em responded with a smile. "Real respect." That earned her a grin as the boy settled back down in his seat.

Ten minutes later, she almost considered taking that statement back. After a few more minutes of sitting, she recalled instructions to read her entire packet upon receiving. Having already failed her first task as intern, the teen decided to pull herself away from relaxing to gather her things. When she returned with the packet, she found her four best friends in different outfits, floating on things in pools, drinking some drink. _So much for not changing. Good job, guys._

"Once you've sipped from a real coconut, there's no going back," Kendall said.

"So true," the other three agreed again.

Emily was pretty sure that her eye was twitching.

"If you four don't get up and out right now, I might just have to do some hurti-iiing," she trailed off, catching sight of a _very_ attractive male. He looked like boyfriend material. Very delicious and shirtless.

"Really, Em? That guy?" Kendall asked, suddenly behind the tomboy. Apparently, the four had heard the warning and got out of the pool. "You can do better than that."

"Yeah," James agreed. "He doesn't have anything like The Face."

"Diamond, Knight, shut it. You were just fawning over those stupid Jennifers a few minutes ago. Like that's any better?"

"At least we didn't just stare," Kendall argued.

"Oh? And what you did was better?" she shot back.

"We are going to show you how's it done."

"Go right ahead, Knight," Em accepted the challenge, gesturing to the girls seated with smoothies and scripts. With a nod, the four boys took a few steps closer to the dogs of a female variety. And then they stopped.

"Okay," Kendall said, about to start what Emily assumed was his usual speech. "We do realize there are three of them and four of us."

"And they blew us off," Logan pointed out. The tough girl listened in amusement. There was the smart boy being smart again while the rest were stupid and about to have a fail attempt. Maybe when they were done, she would show them how getting a date really worked. Despite her lack of femininity and her abundance of what many described as too much testosterone (which really was extremely inaccurate), Emily had never had too much trouble with guys. A girl on her team had said it was the confidence. Another one had said it was her looks. Either way, things worked for her.

"No. They said later," James said, which cued Carlos to come in with, "And it's later."

"Okay!" Kelly returned. "Mom's all checked in. Emily, you're checked in but your stuff is with Mom. Kendall, your sister complained again about not having any friends so your mom let her watch Shark Cage on Fox and…," she slowed her speech, the boys having turned away to stare at the Jennifers again. They were being incredibly rude, something which Emily nearly slapped them on the back of the head for. "Now it's time to start Gustavo's boy band boot camp."

"Kelly, we're a little busy here," Kendall said. Em took a step forward, about to put her slapping plan in action, but the talent scout was quick with a quip. "So am I and they won't go for you until you're famous. So let's roll."

James chuckled, almost condescending. If he wasn't the face? Emily probably would have hurt it. "Oh, Kelly, Kelly. Clearly you don't understand the power of the-" He wiggled his fingers around his face, ironically enough. Kendall pointed for emphasis. Kelly merely quieted herself, taking a stance very much the same as Emily. The two females would simply have to watch the crash and burn of four overly cocky boys.

"Ladies," James said smoothly as they reached the Jennifers. "I don't think we properly introduced-" Three pink smoothies were thrown in their faces. From her spot next to Kelly, Emily burst into laughter. That was so deserved and so perfect. "Ourselves," James lamely finished.

"Okay," Kendall said. "Let's go to boot camp."

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As the group of six entered the large building, a group of three exited, though none paid attention to it. The posters on the walls, the furniture, the well designed walls and colored glass. That had their attention. As did the 'tour guide'.

"Welcome to Rocque Records," Kelly smiled. "Where you are gonna sing, dance and sweat your butts off. _If_ you wanna end up on these walls."

That all sounded fine and dandy to Emily, but literally, none of that applied to her. She was an intern. That was all. Though, seeing a rather hideous Boyquake poster, it made her glad for a few seconds.

"Do we want to end up on these walls?" Kendall asked. James's response was immediate.

"Yes."

"Guys," Kelly spoke again, "Say hello to Nicole Scherzinger from the Pussycat Dolls."

Unimpressed, Emily turned to her while the boys double taked. Internship had started. Cordial and polite was an immediate must.

"Hey guys. What's up?" the Pussycat Doll leader laughed.

"Miss Scherzinger," Em smiled politely and offered a greeting hand. "It is an honor to meet you. You have quite the talent."

"Thanks," the slim woman replied, shaking the teen's hand briefly while the boys did their in awe staring.

"He's gonna marry you!" Carlos suddenly threw out, pointing to James.

"Where's my ring?" the music star asked, playing along. James merely stared, wide eyed, repeating that same unintelligible syllables over and over again. Emily had to admit it. It was funny to see James Diamond at a loss for words with the ladies. She would have let the pretty boy suffer awhile longer, but Kendall, being a good friend and normal person, spoke up.

"We're recording some demos with Gustavo."

"Gustavo," Nicole repeated, attitude different.

"Yeah. Have you worked with him?" Kendall asked. The four boys had clearly not picked up on the change.

"Yes, actually, on my first album. Let's just say that we had some… creative differences."

"Nicole. Baby!" Gustavo's generally loud voice suddenly appeared along with the man as he tried to step out of his office. The Pussycat Doll swung around and grabbed the nearest object, chucking it violently at the man. The door saved his face. Emily had to give the woman props. And she had to bite back an unprofessional giggle.

"Good luck, guys," Nicole said with a strained smile before stalking out of the building, the boys looking after her like lovesick puppies, Carlos going as far as to say her name after her.

"All clear," Kelly announced as Gustavo edged his way out of the office once more.

"Okay," the big man cleared his throat. "You guys ready to be stars?"

"Yeah," the four boys stated.

"Good! Then prove to me- …who are you?" the music producer took notice of the teenage girl standing beside the boys.

"My name is Emily Greene, sir. It is a pleasure to formally meet you, Mr. Rocque. I am your new intern," she said with more professional politeness. With the lying skill, it seemed genuine enough. The big man stared at her for a moment, then glanced between her and Kendall, drawing some familiarity.

"Were you in Minnesota with these four?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir," Emily answered.

"Are you that crazy girl that ripped out a chunk of hair from one of the security guards?" Gustavo asked.

She was a little more hesitant to respond this time. "Yes."

"Then, _you're fired_!" There was a heavy silence after the words had hit the air.

"Excuse me?" Oh. There was Emily's pissed off tone. The four boys took a step back and away from their friend. "No. No no no. Do you know how long I worked to get this friggin' internship? I spent three months on it! Three months! And I am committed to six months working here, being your intern! If I can suck it up and work for you for six months, you can suck it up and take advantage of my free labor for six months. You are _not_ firing me."

More silence. Gustavo had not been expecting a response like that, one that pointed out the so obvious reason he had ever agreed to have some annoying teenager follow him around in the first place. Free labor. Kelly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Gustavo, give her a chance."

"Fine! You have three days to prove to me that I should keep you. And _you_," he returned his attention to his latest project, "We have three days. Three days to prove to the record company that there is something, _anything_, here."

"Three days?" Kendall asked. "What happened to three months?"

"Uh, the CEO of all of our butts wants to see you guys on Friday."

"We have to be a band in three days?" The disbelief was written on Logan's face.

"No. You have to be a _great_ band in three days! Unless you don't think you can do it, Mr. Make Us a Pop Group."

"We can do it. No problem. Bring it," Kendall challenged, stepping forward. Emily believed him. If there was any four people in the world that could do this, it was her four best friends. Despite all of their faults, they could do it. She knew they could.

"Oh I will bring it. I'll bring everything I got," Gustavo countered, stepping closer to the blond.

"This is a little too close for me," Kendall stated.

"Yeah, me too."

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A few minutes later, the large group found themselves standing in another room, the boys of the band dressed in army patterned cargos and army green tops. Gustavo, for some reason that Emily suspected she did not want to know, had an outfit that completed the idea that this was boot camp and that he was boss. For the most part, the still normally clothed teenage girl felt awkward. Thus far, she simply followed in silence, reading her packet as she went.

"To be a great pop group, you need four things: great dancing, a great look, a great song and great singing," Gustavo instructed. Kelly blew an airhorn. Three of the four things Emily had faith in. The four boys were each attractive, some more than others, but all were good looking. A great song was something that Gustavo was in charge of and great singing was clearly within their realm of capability. Great dancing? That was another story. None of them were really good and that time Mrs. Diamond had forced them into ballet as a group (despite the fact that Emily was leagues ahead of the level she put them in)? The class had been a disaster. Fun, but a disaster.

As groups of people entered, each with their own flair, Emily took in everything. If she just so happened to end up in the music producing business, which was very unlikely but she was keeping her options open, she wanted to know all that she could. This was meant to be a learning experience and boy was she going to learn.

"And by the end of today," Gustavo said, "me and my team will transform the four dogs from Minnesota into Gustavo Rocque's new pop explosion!" The style group and the choreographer posed, as if on cue. The final group of uptight suits stood awkwardly.

"We're the marketing team," the woman said. "We don't really have a move."

"Well, we could try something," the man suggested and shrugging, both attempted the robot. It was pretty sloppy.

"Stop it. Stop it, now," Gustavo commanded, and Emily was grateful to see the squeaky moves cease. "Thank you. First up at boot camp! Great dancing."

Minutes later, the group transitioned to the dance studio and into different clothes.

"Mr. X has choreographed for BoyQuake, Boyz in the Attic," Gustavo started to list. At every musical group named, the flaming choreographer gave an example dance move. Emily had to admit it. The man was good. He had a flow to his body. "Madonna. Beyonce." He also had a lot of confidence. "And Yo Gabba Gabba."

Mr. X approached the boys. "And now, I will make you eXplode with the dance." Worry crossed Carlos's face at the declaration and he donned his helmet. "They will start with an eXamination. Cross leg, spin, pose," Mr. X directed and gave a quick example. Emily's toes twitched in her Converse to repeat the motion. It was natural to feel an urge to repeat any and all dance instruction. After shared glances, the boys attempted to show the moves back, Logan's arm smacking Carlos in the face. Emily laughed.

"He's okay," she assured Kelly, who seemed a little worried as Logan and James helped the Latino back to his feet. "That's why he wears the helmet." Or, at least it was one benefit to having it. Mr. X approached the four 'dogs' to critique their tries.

He stopped before Kendall, "He is great, but not serious." James, "He is serious, but not great." Carlos, "He lost a pet when he was young and he is still sad." The Latino's face fell. "Sparky," he stated the name of the poor pet that had died much before his time. This Mr. X now put Emily on edge. How in the world did he knew about the long dead animal? The teen was going to look out for this guy. From her knowledge? You could not much trust a dancer. The business was competitive and behind your back. Next, it was Logan's turn. "And he is just plain awful." Emily decided that she did not like this man's accent, though she did like Logan's response, the simple inhalation and agreement. The smart boy wasn't letting the criticism get to him and there was another respect point added under Logan's name. Mr. X returned to Gustavo.

"They are eXcrutiating and cannot be ready by Friday." He had his arms crossed in the shape of an X.

"I'll X-double your salary," the music producer stated.

"X-done."

If the X in every sentence continued, Emily considered the possibility of her breaking something. Following that, she considered the likelihood of being fired and sent back to Minnesota were she to act on the possibility. The outcome was the decision that it wasn't worth it. Better to be annoyed than to be stuck at home.

"Alright. I'm gonna be back in one hour and I wanna see dancers, not dogs. Intern, follow," Gustavo commanded. Shooting her four friends an encouraging smile, Emily did as she was told. On their way to wherever she was being led to, her boss asked, "So, intern, person, thing, what makes you useful?"

"Well, sir, I am extre- moderately intelligent. I can follow direction. I have had dance training since I was four, as well as hockey. I can play the piano. Uh… I know a bit of psychology and I'm kind of a poetry buff which NO ONE should ever know about, but might be beneficial lyrically. And… oh! The guys. They aren't easy to control, but they usually listen to me under threat of pain. So, if you need help with that. I also have a driver's license," Emily listed. As much as her mother drove her insane, the teen had to be grateful for a few of the things she had forced her into. Although hockey beat dance, she really did enjoy moving her body successfully to a beat. Although playing piano was not a large joy, it was a convenient skill. Without the pressure of her mom, she never would have gotten her license, nor would she have fallen in love with poetry so early in life (though she kept this love a secret because it was girly and embarrassing).

As they entered a room with a piano, Emily stood awkwardly waiting for instruction as Gustavo took a seat before the instrument.

"It's time to write a song. I'm gonna write a song now. And it is going to _rock_!" the music producer said, as if psyching himself up for it.

"No doubt about it, sir," Emily agreed. Another lie. She wasn't much a fan of his music, though she only knew the songs Kendall had sang (although Kendall made all music sound good). Then again, Em really didn't like pop. She listened to mostly rock and older rock at that. Queen, Guns N Roses, Aerosmith. Those she liked.

"Intern!" Gustavo bellowed. "Be quiet. Go sharpen my pencils!" Ah, the grunt work of an intern. She should have expected something as lame as this.

"But don't you use pens?" Kelly asked.

"Ah! No one asked you! Now be quiet! I need silence to create my masterpiece."

_Masterpiece my butt! Now. Pencil sharpening. I'm gonna sharpen those pencils like a boss._ Wherever the heck the pencils and sharpener were. Silently, Emily loped around the room, gaze smoothly roved the room in search. As Kelly came into the line of sight, the teen gave a sheepish smile. Despite the rocky start where the older woman had ignored her will, Em found that Kelly was quite alright in her book. And she became even more so when she gestured to where the pencils were hiding.

"_Thank you_," the tomboy mouthed and slunk over to the classic, yellow writing utensils. All were completely unsharpened, as new as when they had been purchased. Atop of a desk sat an electric sharpener. Emily was pretty sure that that constituted as a piece of technology. And noise. Considering the temper Gustavo had, it was almost certain that using the thing and breaking it would be very, very bad. Fortunately, in the top drawer of the desk, she found a small hand sharpener.

As the producer began to sing loud, horrible lyrics about it being 'girl time', Emily grimaced and literally bit her tongue to hold back a groan. An entire hour suffering through this? Maybe one of those pencils would find itself jabbed in her eye… Surely it was too early to tell her boss that this song was nothing short of disgusting. After about ten minutes of sharpening pencils, she was ready to snap all of the pencils in half. It was utterly boring. And listening to Girl Time didn't help the situation at all.

_Entertain yourself, Greene. There's always _something_ to do in everything_. After a minute of thought, she decided that she was going to try and sharpen an entire pencil with one single, unbroken shaving. Ever so carefully, she twisted the thing, dark brows drawing together in utter concentration. When Em set her mind to something, she set her entire being to it. Which was how she had succeeded in getting the internship.

The pencil was doing well. Nearly half of it had been eaten away and the shaving was one long, weak spiral. So completely focused on this task, she was actually startled. She was actually, genuinely startled when Gustavo smacked down on some keys violently and suddenly shouted something that wasn't a word. It made her jump. And the flimsy little pencil shaving broke. Anger overtook Emily, flooding through her. She had been so close! With a sharp snap, the pencil between her fingers broke.

"Intern! Stop breaking my pencils and get over here! Write what I say!" Apparently, Gustavo was going to be referring to her by her temporary profession rather than any variation of her name. Lovely. The rest of the hour was going to pass slowly…

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"Okay! So, it's been an hour and…," Gustavo fell short. The four boys were on the floor, in various stages of tired and sweaty. To Emily, it looked like a good workout, albeit a short one for what she assumed would be in store. As she stared at the boys, though, those thoughts washed away. Something was off.

"What happened to Mr. X?" Kelly asked. Ah. _That_ was what was off. The weird choreographer was missing.

"Well," Logan started, "first he banged his head into the wall a few times." _I know the feeling._

"Then we got really dizzy," upside-down Carlos said. _Don't know that feeling._

"Then he said a bunch of bad words that started with X," James continued. _Bad words? Shame shame! You're not supposed to curse around minors!_ Even Emily knew that.

"Then he X-quit." The easy going look on Kendall's face may not have helped the situation as quaky, angry Gustavo Rocque listened, growing visibly worse.

"Oh no," Kelly immediately dropped her things and grabbed a pair of headphones. Emily was about to ask what was going on when the mouth nearest her bellowed the loudest angry exclamation the teen had ever heard. Her ears and her head hurt.

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They were in another room again, this one fair sized with a long table at which the quintet sat, the four boys holding papers. Emily was currently fiddling with her ears, tugging on the once pierced, but unearringed lobes, pressing and shaking with hopes that full hearing ability would return. This was ridiculous.

"Part two of my great pop band boot camp," Gustavo said, dramatically pausing as he thunked his hands on the table. "The great look."

"When do we sing?" James asked curiously.

"When I tell you to sing!" Gustavo shouted, drawing a wince from Emily. She definitely still had some hearing.

"Guys," the Asian marketing man addressed the boys. "We have some exciting looks that will literally transform you."

"Can't we just be ourselves?" Kendall asked, quite the common sense question. It was greeted with laughter ended with a "No."

The marketing woman flipped on a powerpoint. "Boys, we researched and electroshocked focus groups to determine the exact look and name that will sell millions of records. Then we turn you over to the stylists-" said stylists appeared, one model worthy woman to stand behind each boy, "to change all of your clothes and possibly shave your heads."

James let out a well deserved, high pitched noise of fear, hands protectively touching the hair he was so proud of.

"Now," the woman continued, "Griffin wants a tasty dish on Friday. That's why we're giving him…" The words were clearly the key statement that set the stylists off because they immediately began to harass the boys, tugging at their hair and their clothes. Although what the stylists did probably could have been considered sexual harassment, Emily had to give them props for being so quick. And she had to giggle when she saw the first style.

"Boy-Liscious!"

It was ridiculous. Undeniably ridiculous. Carlos wore a funky track suit. Kendall had no shirt and a pair of denim overalls. Awkwardly shiny pants adorned James's lower half and his upper half was barely covered with a weird blousy thing. And Logan looked more like a nerd than Emily had known was possible, with dorked out glasses, a piano scarf tie thing that Em couldn't identify as well as a yellow bowtie. It was pretty pathetic. And the blond clearly shared the negative sentiments.

"The beach. The girls. The shirtless overalls," he said.

"I think we look good," James smiled, popping what would have been a collar on a normal shirt.

"Not bad." Gustavo was using that grossly high pitch again. Emily decided that she preferred going deaf from his deep yelling to this annoying tone. "But I need options."

"You got that right. This isn't the nineties anymore," the teen uttered beneath her breath.

"What else you got?"

"Change it!"

After further molestation of her best friends, Emily was left laughing in disbelief at the latest development.

"Red, White and Boy," the two marketers saluted the now patriotic quartet. "This look tested great with war veterans who own Buicks."

"Woah, wait, what?" Emily asked, stifling her giggles. "That's ridiculous. Eleven to fifteen year old girls aren't war veterans and they aren't old enough to own Buicks. Besides, that is an incredibly limited target group and an completely asinine idea."

"We still look good," James grinned.

"We look like Uncle Sam threw up on us," Kendall complained.

"You," Gustavo pointed to Emily, "and you," he pointed to Kendall as well, "Silence. You," his finger found target at the marketers now, "More options."

"Change them."

More molestation of the poor boys. This time when Emily saw them, she literally rolled on the floor laughing. The were in the darkest, tightest get up that she had never thought possible. Make up and everything! They looked so uncomfortable!

"I give you Danger Boy. Danger Boy is danger and parents will forbid their kids to buy the dangerous music," the woman said. The man spoke next, "Which is exactly why they will." The pair knuckle touched, blew it up and booyah'd. It was very non deserved.

"Hold up. Hold up. I have got to get a picture of this!" Emily gasped, still laughing as she rose to her feet to snap a picture on her phone. For this action, she received a tired glare.

"I can't feel my legs," Logan worried.

"That's because the pants are dangerously tight," the woman commented to Gustavo. Logan let out a pained, high pitched cough. Poor boys' junk was probably being hugged a little too tightly for comfort. Even Emily refused to wear bottoms that tight and she had no sensitive male parts in danger.

"Pants that tight means limited dancing," Em spoke in Gustavo's other ear. Although she was absolutely tickled pink by the outfits, she would not allow her friends to endure that sort of torture.

"I hate it," Gustavo agreed.

"So do we." And those marketers had no spine.

"I need five new looks for tomorrow," the music producer decided. Carlos looked terrified at the prospect. Maybe Emily could swing her nonexistent weight around and hint at letting the boys pick their own clothes? Or at least pick something without a weird theme. Or, at the very, very least, pick a something with a theme that matched the music.

"Alright! Now follow me to hear your first hit single that's gonna put me back on top! Move out!"

Trailing behind her boss, Emily stayed back enough to watch her friends struggling, finding it hard to move, let alone stand up. Was it bad that she was kind of amused watching them? Though as they started "woah"ing and "going down", she let out a sigh. The boys crashed to the floor. "I think we look good," James had to add, words met by groans and eye rolls.

"Here. Let me help you guys," she said and individually hauled each boy up. "Conga line. I'll hold you all up." With Kendall immediately behind her, she grabbed his hands and set them firmly on her hips, a more stable place than her shoulders. The rest of the boys mimicked the action and with Emily serving as a steady base, they eventually successfully reached Gustavo.

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"Okay. Part three of the great pop group boot campapalooza: the great song," Gustavo announced and turned to his piano. Excitedly, Kelly held up the lyrics sheet Emily had handwritten and then typed.

"It's called Girl Time," the assistant said and passed out a sheet to each of the four.

"_It sucks_," the tomboy mouthed.

"It's a song about no matter what time of day it is, _don't you know it's girl time_," Gustavo sang the end and Kelly added a little flare with a point.

"_It still sucks_," Emily mouthed again. The song was incredibly shallow. As a teenage girl, she would not be impressed with it or empowered to buy it. As an English fan, she was disgusted by the lack of poetry with the music. At least the piano sounded good…

"Oh, I just woke up," Gustavo pretended to yawn, stretching as he approached the boys. "What time is it?" he asked, and immediately answered his own question. "It's girl time. Excuse me, sir. Do you know what time it is? Yeah. It's girl time."

"What if you have a sinus infection? Isn't that doctor time?" Logan asked and Emily couldn't help but laugh again. The best part was that the smart boy wasn't trying to be a smartass like Kendall. He was genuinely asking. Her friends were quite the amusing bunch.

"No!" Gustavo looked quite frustrated. "No, no, no! It's still girl time!"

"Ah. Right." There was Logan being sheepish again.

"Do any of your songs not have the word girl in them?" There was Kendall being that smartass again. Though Emily definitely did not blame him for that. The song really was terrible.

"Heh. Well, let's find out Mr. Question Everything I Do. Let's take a look at my wall of _platinum records_!" Gustavo liked to yell for emphasis, Emily noticed. She would have complained, but it was better than the high pitch.

Mr. Big Man pushed passed the two tall boys to reach the wall. "Let's see there's, uh, Girl Like You, Girl You Are My Girl, Hot Girl, Cold Girl, Girl to My Heart, Yard Squirrel Christmas. I forgot that one was there."

"I love that song," Emily whispered (though the rest sounded almost as bad as Girl Time).

"Uh, Girl Zone, Girl Zone Remix, Girl Cake, and Girl Girl Girl which sold three million copies and _was number one for five weeks!_" Once again, Gustavo slid up to Kendall in what looked like too close proximity for Emily. The blond had the ever present, unfazed smirk on his lips. "Any other questions, dog?" Condescendingly, he patted Kendall's cheek twice and the smirk fell, only to rise again a half a second later. _Here comes another brilliant, but stupid comment from Kendall Knight. Gotta love him._

"Are any of those songs from this girllenium?" he quipped.

Emily had never realized it was possible to become as angry as Gustavo did. The man turned red, he vibrated, he shouted. He literally quaked and physically shook the earth in his explosion. It was nice to see that someone had a worse temper than her. It was also nice to know to cover her ears prior to the otherworldly bellow. It was not nice to know that she had to work for this guy for six months.

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"Okay. Your heart rate is back to normal and your blood pressure is one twenty over eighty. You can produce now," Kelly told Gustavo. Following the insane outburst, the assistant had had to calm the lug down and physically make sure he was okay. The intern had been reduced to fetching water, setting pillows down in a little recording room and also gathering a large number of fruit water to set in said room. When she returned to the studio area, the big man had been hooked up to a few things.

"Is it normal for producers to have to have their heart rate and blood pressure checked in studio?" Emily asked, genuinely interested in the answer. For once, she was glad Logan had bored her one afternoon and taught her how to monitor the physical crap and what was normal.

"Surprisingly?" Kelly responded. "Yeah."

As Gustavo went to press some buttons, the woman grabbed his arm. "Ah, but remember, the boys haven't had a break all day. I think they're getting a little punchy."

"I am seriously surprised none of them have started beating on each other yet," Emily added.

"I don't care," the producer said and went about his business, hitting a button that filtered his voice into the small room the boys were contained in. Em took note of the button (she wanted to know eventually if music producing was even the slightest of interests for her). "Okay, and now it's time for the final phase of Gustavo Rocque's most awesomest pop group boot camp." Emily was pretty sure he changed the wording of the title every time. Not that she was keeping track. Just like she wasn't keeping track of the fact every other phase of the camp had failed thus far. "The _singiiing_," Gustavo sang, mic creating a high frequency noise briefly.

"What is this place?" Kendall asked.

"It's a sound booth, guys," Kelly answered. "It just isolates the vocals in case we need to edit or enhance them later."

"Why are there pillows on the floor?" Carlos questioned, lifting one fluffy rectangle up.

"Do you want us to nap? Cuz we will," James offered.

"They just absorb any extra echo or treble, just like those big foam mic covers," the dark skinned assistant explained. Kendall lifted one for examination and, Emily assumed bored, tapped the thing against his head. "And I had Emily put some fruit water in there in case your mouths get dry, okay?"

James and Logan offered an appreciative thumbs up.

"Okay, great," Gustavo took over the studio's microphone again, "and-" Another high noise crossed the airwaves and Kendall tapped Carlos's head with the foamy mic of the sound booth.

"Funny. Do it again," Carlos challenged, unamused.

"And this is where they start beating on each other," Emily whispered loudly to the man she worked under. Kendall only proved her point when he smacked the Latino's head harder.

"Not so tough without your helmet, are you?" he laughed.

In a flash, Carlos grasped a bottle of fruit water and with a battle cry, he pressed down on the plastic, squirting the blue liquid all over an unintended target. Logan. _That_ amused the Latino and he laughed.

"Knock it off!" the very unhappy brain scowled. Carlos simply repeated the action and Logan couldn't fight a smile as he took the challenge offered. He picked up a red filled bottle and retaliated, only to pull a Carlos and hit the wrong person. James.

"Oh frick. Yup. Fight. That was James's lucky white V neck…," Emily frowned.

"You just ruined my lucky white V neck!" James shouted. And so began a war.

"Maybe the fruit water was a bad idea," Kelly admitted.

"Intern! Make your stupid friends stop," Gustavo ordered.

"Yes sir," Emily agreed, quite happy to do _this_ job. Calmly, she handed her cell to Kelly and made her way to the sound booth. Softly, but surely, she knocked on the door to announce her presence. And the she slammed it open. "Stop it right now!" she shouted. Of course, Kendall, Carlos, James and Logan were a little more concerned with having fun than paying attention to consequences and all four turned to Emily, their current weapons of choice painting her shirt shades of colors.

"Oh, it's on!" she said, picking up a pillow. Immediately, she began a violent, but light hearted assault on her friends and what was a fruit water fight became a feather filled pillow war. White fluttered down, mixing in with the laughter and 'oofs' in the air. One particularly hard smack from Emily threw Carlos into the window. Everything was a mess.

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Emily was pretty positive that this was one of those moments where being grouped with the guys was a bad thing. Standing in a line before Gustavo, she took the first place on the left beside her favorite crazy person.

"You!" Gustavo pointed at her, starting his negative tirade. "Lied and didn't do your job!" _Well, now I feel great. Good job, Greene. Way to make him want to keep you around for six months._

He moved onto Carlos. "You! Can't sing." _That's a lie._

Onto Logan. "You! Can't sing or dance." _Not_ entirely_ true_.

"But I can backflip," the brain offered hopefully.

"Stop it."

"Okay."

"Forever."

"Mmhm," Logan dropped his head dejectedly. Emily didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. It was like when Gustavo had initially crushed James's dreams and when he'd crushed them the second time. Speaking of the pretty boy…

He offered a smile and Gustavo merely moved on, clearly hurting the boy. Now Mr. Big Man stood before Kendall.

"And worst of all, you don't even _seem to want this_!" The blond merely coughed out a mouthful of feathers.

"W-what about me?" James spoke up. "I can sing, dance and _I_ want this."

"You remind me a lot of Matthew McConaughey," the music producer said. James took this as a compliment.

"Awesome," he smiled._ That man _does_ have a nice body_.

"I can't stand Matthew McConaughey." The smile fell. _That man also can't act…_

"This group can't sing, can't dance. You don't have a song or a look and they're _covered in feathers!_ And I would rather quit _right now_ than commit pop suicide on Friday in front of the record company. However, there is one song I would _love_ to play for you." Gustavo crossed to the piano and sat down. A frown crossed Emily's lips. Was this what it sounded like? He began to play.

"_Ooh, now that I'm through bangin' my head, this band of dogs, is officially _dead!" He topped off the terrible tune with some elegant piano playing.

"Wait," Emily raised a hand. "Am I fired, too?"

The room was silent for a full ten seconds. The teen counted.

"I haven't decided! Check back tomorrow."

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Returning to the Palm Woods was replete with melancholy. Laying by the poolside failed to fix the mood, light, lilting guitar drifted past. A devastated James paced back and forth, irritably lifting his hands to his hair sporadically.

"He's a really good piano player," Logan eventually stated, the first to break the silence that had grown.

"Really good," Emily agreed, a tight grip on her knees. She could have learned from that man. She could have learned a lot and gained a lot and now? Now it was all unsure and on the line. And this time? She couldn't argue if he chose to fire her. Fighting with her friends had been stupid and immature and although very Emily, it was far from professional.

"And I am so depressed," Carlos said monotonously. To see the constantly chipper, hyper Latino so down worsened the atmosphere.

"It's the music," Kendall sighed. "Guitar Dude. Please?"

The long haired male lifted his head and his hands, pulling away from the instrument. "Oh. Sorry," he whispered.

As the five teens continued to wallow in their somber moods, Katie approached, bag slung over her shoulder.

"So," she stopped, hands on her hips. "has Gustavo Dork make you guys famous yet?"

"We had some creative differences," Kendall answered, using the same line Nicole Scherzinger had.

"You got fired, didn't you?" the unnaturally intelligent preteen shot back.

"All he did was yell and scream at us. And make us wear dangerously tight pants."

"Yeah, you're right. All he wanted was to turn us into rich and famous pop stars! What an idiot!" James was taking this rejection worse than he had before. This time Emily saw anger in him on top of every other crushing blow. He _had_ put effort into everything, then girl realized, and it _still_ hadn't worked for him._ Again_.

"He wanted to turn us into his trained, dancing dogs," Kendall argued.

"Rich and famous dancing dogs!" James replied, clearly desperate by the dramatic, emphasizing jumps.

"He's got a point," Logan agreed.

"Oh? You're siding with James now?" the blond leader questioned.

"No. No, I do-, maybe? Kinda," he cleared his throat, as indecisive and spine weak as always. "Yes?"

"You guys blew it. You blew my shot. You could have tried harder, but you didn't!"

"Look, James, chill. I'm not entirely fired yet. If I still have the internship tomorrow, I'll talk to Gustavo. Maybe I can convince him that you guys are worth it. Because you are worth it," Emily said, trying to be helpful. The boys couldn't just give up. It was like a poem she had memorized once written by a guy with a weird name she could never recall. _An opened door is before you. You only have to walk in, and discover your potentials- all success to win. An opened door is before you, which no one else can close. Only you can shut it- despite the hindrance posed. An opened door is before you, so pick up your stride. Arise and go forward. Don't stop till you're inside._ They had what it took. All of them did. And despite the fact that Gustavo was difficult and there was so much against them, like a crazy time limit, the only thing that could stop them was them. As long as they picked their heads up and worked harder, it would work out. Right?

"Ha! You think you'll still have a job?" James laughed bitterly. "He fired you first! Why would he keep you when he wouldn't keep us?"

That was _not_ the right thing to say. Immediately, Emily was on her feet, a genuine growl emanating from deep within her. After her inspirational thoughts and what she considered a nice offer, she had not expected such a harsh slam. And she wasn't going to take it. A moment later, Carlos was up and getting between the two flaring teens.

"Okay," he said, with that usual good nature back, arms swinging out. "Let's just all calm down and think nice happy thoughts about kittens." It was such a happily delivered suggestion and a smile came with it. Emily almost considered trying to consider the fluffy animals (even if she only had iffy thoughts about cats). But James had to continue to be a jerk.

"You think about kittens with your bad singing and that stupid helmet!" He shoved the Latino down back onto one of the beach chairs.

"What the heck, James? Carlos didn't do anything," Emily glared and she shoved the pretty boy. After all of his attitude, her sympathy for the situation was eliminated and any thoughts that would have brought the feelings back were clouded by anger.

James was about to shove the tomboy back. When it came to the four boys, Emily's gender meant nothing. She was just as much of a guy as the rest of them. That no hitting girls rule? It had never applied to her.

"Guys, guys," Logan stood up, trying to pacify. "Remember our pact about not letting this town tear us apart?"

The words went ignored as James lunged towards Emily. Carlos launched himself at the pretty boy, another battle cry leaving his lips. A three-way wrestling match began.

"Great!" Kendall threw up his arms. "Now we're all fighting!" He was on his feet. "I didn't even want to do this!" Yet of course he wrapped arms around Emily's waist, trying hard to pull her away from Carlos and James. Logan took the pretty boy on the other side. Limbs tangled with limbs and shouted mingled with one another, cries becoming nothing more than cries, few words clear enough to understand. Before any of them knew it, they were falling head first into the water, a rush of cool liquid drenching their bodies and drenching the heat of the argument. As they came up, selves slick with water and gasping to catch surprised breath, Katie stood over them, smug and arms crossed.

"Katie! What was that for?" Kendall shouted.

"Looked like you guys needed to cool off," she retorted calmly.

"She's right," James sighed. "I'm sorry."

Although they forgave, they still splashed and dunked.

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Still wet and still a little sad, the quintet sat around a small fire pit near the pool.

"I could stay here and be a model," James tried to console himself. "I'm still great looking. Or the star of a reality show."

At least James had another option. Emily had no idea how to salvage her own situation were she actually fired. She had no dream to aspire towards. This would likely end up on some record somewhere (she irrationally believed) and if that were true, everyone everywhere would see that she was let go in one day. _One_ _day_. That immediately suggested that she was bad beyond belief. And then there was the issue of her grandmother who was due to arrive any day. Where was she supposed to go? A nursing home, now? Did insurance even cover that? Thoughts were swirling in her mind, darting around so quickly that they all passed before someone could respond to James's proclamation.

"Which one?" Carlos said, quite snarky. "Project Idiot?"

"That's just your jealousy talking." And that was James being normal, being secure. At least he was finally pulling it together.

"You know what's funny?" Kendall stated his question. "We didn't even get a chance to sing together."

Another unfair thing about the entire situation. The guys hadn't even been given a full shot.

"At least you didn't have to sing that stupid Girl Time song. I thought I was going to have to kill myself when I was copying it down for Mr. Big Man," Emily sighed. Despite the fact that she absolutely loathed the guy, she had to admit, the torture had been a _little_ fun. Or maybe she was a little masochistic and had yet to realize it until now. _Or_ maybe, just maybe, the idea of working for a music producer was actually pretty damn exciting.

"How about your favorite song?" Kendall offered with a small smirk. The other four peered at him curiously. "_Oh, you're such a turd_," he began alone, Carlos quick to join in. "_Oh yeah, a giant turd. And you look like a turd and you smell like a turd._" Far from a singer, Emily began to bob her head to the small, unheard beat. Logan joined in now and James added a layer to the music. The five rose to their feet, the boys starting another round of the song. Em created a few nonsense dance moves to go along. The third repetition and Logan began to beat box, giving the tomboy a tune to spin to. "_And you sme-e-ell like a tuuurd_," James's vocals decorated the final few notes. The small song had produced some sort of a miracle, the quintet laughing now instead of grieving, a marvelous change. And as they fell back into their seats, applause rose up around them, a beautiful approval. Even the Jennifers rose to their feet to commend the group. With a smile, James bowed.

"We should do this," Kendall said to the boys and brought himself to his feet again. "You guys are right. I really think we should do this."

"How? We got fired, remember?" Logan logically responded.

"We didn't get fired."

The look Logan shot the blond had him retracting his statement. "I mean, we got fired, but the problem is we didn't try our best."

James rose his hand. "I tried my best."

"We know, James," Kendall nodded. "We know. Guitar Dude." He turned to the addressed. "I need some music. Something inspirational." Here came a world famous Knight speech. This was the leader Emily knew and loved. The guitar player began to elicit soft sounds from his acoustic.

"We are hockey players," the blond began. "Brothers of the ice and we do not quit. Now, are we gonna dump the puck and scramble back to the bench? Or are we gonna grab that puck, pull the goalie and rush the net big time?" Put it in hockey terms and they all understood. Put it in words spoken by Kendall Knight and they all believed.

"You really think we can make it as a boy band?" Carlos asked and James beside him was starting to grow excited.

"No," Kendall said.

"_I_," Emily interrupted, "think that you guys can do it. You can do anything you set your mind to, 'despite the hindrance posed'." The end of her sentence earned fairly confused glances, but lips curled upwards. However, her word was not as strong as the leader's. They needed to hear it from him. And they were going to.

"I've realized three things since I've come here. One, I love singing. Two, I love singing with you guys and opportunities like this come once in a life time, for all of us."

"What's the third thing?" Logan asked.

"It's minus eight in Minnesota right now… and I'm in love with this pool." Each of them chuckled.

"So what's the play? Dump the puck? Or big time rush?"

James roes to his feet. "Big time rush."

Carlos stood next. "Big time rush."

Third came Logan. "Big time rush."

As Emily stood, she was heavily tempted to say something along the lines of "work for Rocque Records" or "work for Mr. Shouts-a-Lot" but the two or any variations of would have been out of place and with the atmosphere Guitar Dude provided, saying anything but the right three words would have been wrong. So her lips parted and the easy fragment rolled off of her tongue.

"Big time rush."

Kendall grinned and cocked his head.

"Big time rush."

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After a call and a ride, the quintet walked into Rocque Records with a purpose. It was silent. On the opposing end of the hall stood Gustavo and the employees who had tried and failed to create a band out of the boys. Each group stepped forward and forward until the centers met, both leaders staring each other down. For the third time that day, Kendall and Gustavo faced one another. Gustavo was the first to speak.

"Well?"

"Okay," Kendall smiled. "We'll do it your way. No goofing off. No pillow fights. And no questions for the next two days."

Every gaze turned to the music producer who had final say.

"Okay," he agreed. "Girl Time. From the top."

"Wait!" the blond reached to stop him. "Except for that. We really don't want to sing Girl Time."

"Okay. Let me guess! You have a better idea. Well let's, let's hear it! Let's hear the dogs' better song title!"

Emily smirked. The 'dogs' definitely had a better song title. In fact, they had a little more than a simple title. During the short ride (and the grabbing of sweatshirts), she had jotted down a few random lyrics and she was certain that they would rock.

"Big Time. Rush," the five spoke in sync.

"It's a song about four hockey players from Minnesota who have an amazing opportunity in front of 'em," Kendall explained. "And they're gonna take their best shot."

It was selfish of Emily, that she wished the song was about _five_ hockey players from Minnesota, but she knew well enough. She knew that this song had to be about the band, about the four. That did not estrange her from her friends. She played her own part in the friendship and a big part of that was being a not so sensitive person. So, she was going to be not so sensitive and simply be happy, as long as she and the boys had their jobs.

"I like it," Kelly said when Gustavo had been silent too long. "And you've got to stop using the word girl in all of your song titles."

"IIIIIIII," Gustavo drew the word out, drawing out anticipation. "like it, also. We're gonna be working all night because Friday is two days away and we are in a big! Time! Rush!"

"Yes!" the quintet cheered, high fiving, hugging, knuckle touching. Until Emily realized something.

"Do I still have my internship?" she asked.

"I could still use some free labor."

"Yes!"

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The next few days were spent with more hours at the studio than was probably healthy, but it all passed in a frenzied flash. Immediately following the agreement to continue working together, Gustavo had gotten down to business and impressed everyone with the speed in which he created a new, non-girl based song (pleasing Emily as he did so by taking two of the few lyrics she had come up with). Soon after, they were in the studio, recording.

"Okay," Gustavo had said. "Big Time Rush from the top, only this time let's try not to make me wanna choke you."

They four had started to sing and although initially it was rough, the voices rising from the bodies of Emily's four best friends melded into beautiful notes, verses, harmonies, layers. The sound of their singing washed over her, warmed her, made her proud. Emily had hardly been more proud of them during their years together.

The recording started and ended. The dancing started and ended (with Em's help and hockey comparisons, things going smoother). The look was created and finished. Friday arrived and all that was left was a pinch of hope and a handful of nerves. CEO Arthur Griffin arrived. It was time to show what Big Time Rush could be.

Everyone dressed professionally, Gustavo trading his usually baggy attire for a suit. Kelly went a little less casual, a skirt, a jacket, a blouse. Even Mr. X had gone for something a more serious.

Behind the seated CEO they anxiously watched, Emily swelling with pride and sweating with nerves. As if her seriousness would make a difference, the teen wore what she had on interview day, though this time she had had the opportunity to look presentable, to shower, to put on a few dashes of make-up (although she hated it). Long locks were left down, but tucked behind ears so that nothing would hinder her sight. And nothing did. Her stare was focused and everywhere, taking in every movement her best friends made as they danced and sang, as they performed as an amazing band. And they were amazing. Though the routine was riddled with little errors, it was perfect. It was real and it was the only pop song she could say she genuinely loved. The energy. The passion. The let go. The intensity. She saw it and she fed off of it. If Big Time Rush didn't get the pass? There was no predicting what her reaction would be, but it would not be good. Potentially prison worthy.

As the final pose settled and the music drifted away from everything but memory and adrenaline pulse, everyone tore their gaze away from the catching boys and diverted everything to Arthur Griffin awaiting his verdict. He turned in his seat and gave such a simple, calm response.

"I like 'em. And the board's gonna love 'em." He stood. Emily stared, heart stopped, breathing ceased. Was it time for her to run into the other room now and shout her cheers and congratulations to her friends? "You got three months to make your demos. I told you the boy band was back." The man lightly slapped Gustavo's face twice. "I have to go. My pants are cold." He and his two assistants made their exit. Now that they were gone? Emily darted to the door, pausing only at Gustavo's voice.

"Guess who's staying in LA?" he said, and she was off running, darting around a corner and through another door. The boys were cheering, just as they deserved to be. "Stop cheering," Gustavo stopped them again. "If you thought the last three days were hard, wait 'til you see the next three months. Carlos still can't sing. Logan still can't dance. And I still can't stand James."

"We'll work on it!" Kendall smiled.

"Okay. Now you can celebrate."

Choruses of yes and 'woohoo's radiated from five mouths while pure, happy energy radiated from every pore.

"You guys were amazing!" Emily shouted, pouncing on the jumping, hugging, high fiving band, tugging them all into a group embrace. "You four are now officially my favorite, most loved, genuine sirs. I knew you could do it!"

Elation. This was here. This was real. This was going to be a big time rush.

**A/N: Hello readers! Firstly, I want to give my thanks. Thanks to one anonymous for being first to review. I want to thank BabyBullet Proof and oheyyitzang for favoriting this fic. Thank you Carlee Davis for adding to your alert list. And super mega thanks to ImprecantesStellam for adding to your alert list as well as the amazing reviews that not only made my day but made me a little bit more secure in my feelings about this fan fiction (this chapter is now kind of sort of dedicated to you). Apologies to people for this being late (I wanted under two weeks), but, if you've made it this far, I think you can see what took me so long? The chapter's about forty-one pages in word… Anyway! I really hope you guys liked this chapter and please please please reviews? I would love them! Additionally, **_**this**_** will hopefully be the longest chapter. And, next chapter I will introduce Grammy. Let me warn you now, lady is crazy because I find it fun. And, for those of you who watch Victorious, I have clearly toyed with the idea of Emily and Jade being cousins. If any of you are absolutely opposed to the idea, go ahead and say so. I'd probably be opposed to it if I wasn't entertained by the idea. XD Thank you all for reading! I was so excited by the amount of people who clicked on the story last chapter. Keep keeping interested and keep keeping reading (anything)! : )**


	3. Big Time Crib

**Summary: Emily Greene has always been poetic, though usually with her fists. When coincidence lands her working alongside her four best friends in Hollywood, the kinds of "poetic" she can get expand as she grows up. And as she grows feelings for one of her best friends. KendallxOC**

**Rating: T for slight language and shameless ogling at attractive boy. And threats. To people and animals.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush. I just own the first season (both parts as of the other day! :D). I do not own the poem "Love, Loyalty and Friendship" by Karen Michelle Nutt. I do not own anyone or anything. I do! However, claim this fic because I wrote it and Emily, Grammy and Wyatt are like my children. They were born. I try to tell them what to do and they only listen half of the time. XP**

Gustavo's "insert various adjectives here" boy band boot camp had completed, but the hours and the work remained brutal and not just for the prospective band. The music producer seemed intent on not only testing his intern but showing her who the boss really was. Apparently, he had taken offense to the way she had stiff armed him into keeping her around. To convey that, he sent Emily on countless errands, few worthwhile, most pointless. All grunt work was removed from the distributed shoulders of multiple employees and thrust solely on her. Yet she refused to bow under the weight, refused to slow her steps. Oh no. She was going to not only prove herself but make herself invaluable. Essential assets were hard to discontinue internships for, even if eventually they planned on speaking their mind at work.

At least she had Kelly. The older woman empathized rather than sympathized. She understood what it was like to do a lot of fetching and running around and menial tasks. A lot of the ones Emily now undertook had been on Kelly's job list only days ago. And so she helped in ways that she could. Every ounce of aid given had the Greene girl more than grateful. Kelly was swiftly rising on Em's list of liked people (although it was a short list). It was undoubted that she would continue to topple others in the ranks. But even with her help, things were tiring for Emily.

At least she had Mrs. Knight. Although she lived in a separate apartment at the Palm Woods, the motherly figure took care of the girl as she always had. When the boys of Big Time Rush were fed, so was Emily. When Mama K did laundry, she offered to wash Emily's clothes as well. It was so well appreciated, removing other stressors from the teen's life. After a long, hard day at work she did not want to waste remaining energy on such stupid tasks. Not that she knew how to do them. Domestic mommy dearest at home did the laundry and cooked. Her daughter had never bothered to learn. Mrs. Knight being helpful? It eased the stress. But she still needed a releaser.

At least she had her best friends. They served as good stress relievers. It didn't matter if it was a stupid game or stunt. It didn't matter if they simply sat and watched the crappy television or if they were running around at her place. It didn't mater if they were at the pool or if she and Carlos were wrestling, throwing each other around. It didn't matter if they did everything or nothing. Whatever it was, it drove away the stress and the tension that accumulated in her shoulders. Everything Gustavo piled on her melted. Of course, the four added stress of their own. James commenting again on her hair and how hers could look almost as good as his if she tried. Logan trying to compete with her intellectually while everyone was aware that his IQ trumped her own. Carlos doing something that he knew would irritate her just because some reason Emily couldn't bother to learn. Kendall being smug and cocky and happy and generally relaxed when she wasn't.

At least she had a nice apartment. 2J sucked. When Emily escaped Kendall, Carlos, Logan and James she had a beautifully furnished place to return to. 2H was a lot nicer than where the boys were set up despite being simply down the hall. With Grandmother West yet to arrive, she had all of the space to herself and continually played some music to fill the silent air. Aerosmith had popped up quite a few times as well as the Eagles and as always, Queen. A few more modern sounds were allowed to grace her ears a few times and she merely relaxed, laying around various places. A few poets managed to steal her attention, throwing her further into ease. Until morning arrived and everything had to start all over. The stress accumulated again.

At least the rest of this afternoon was free. Gustavo had a meeting and did not want the dogs or the intern around. And so they were released unto the Palm Woods to enjoy life before the future day arrived. When that time came, they would suffer exorbitant hours at Rocque Records. But for now, the pool was looking mighty fine and Emily was not about to waste a single moment in wait for her four best friends. When they were ready, they could come and find her. Emily Greene waited for no one. No one who didn't ask politely anyway.

Clad in a bathing suit that rarely saw the light of day, she felt a hint of awkwardness flood her body despite the fact that over the black and blue bikini she wore sweat pants and a tank top. Maybe it was the fact that she was standing alone in an elevator with only a towel hanging over one arm. The metal doors slid open and the awkward feelings dissipated as she walked out. All attention turned to one figure visible past the clear doors of the lobby. Climbing out of the pool with water dripping down a chiseled chest that rivaled James's? The same shirtless hottie she had seen on the first day. He was _so_ gorgeous, dark, sandy blond locks sopping and in a sexy disarray. Although the color of his eyes were not ascertainable at their distance, Emily had deduced in a previous staring session that they were brown and light. And _that_ jaw and those muscles!

_Poof!_ That was Emily's face meeting a dusty broom standing up in a maid's cart. _Bang_! That was the rest of her body colliding. Immediately, her focus was torn away from the attractive boy outside. Instead of it being aimed at backing away from the offensive things she had run into, attention went inward with anger. _Emily Grace Greene! What is your problem? You are better than this! Who cares if that boy is attractive and cute and muscular and taller than you an-_ The thoughts wouldn't quit. And so she made them. _Slap!_ That was her own hand striking itself violently across the face. Suddenly, everyone in the lobby was staring at her. Including cute boy who happened to walk in as she committed the small act of violence against herself. In an attempt to diffuse the situation and light embarrassment, she did the best thing she could. She lied.

"What?" she snapped. "There was a spider on my face."

Cute boy strode up to her confidently. Maybe he was cute, but that didn't mean that he could be all cocky with her. Emily rose her eyebrows as if daring him to comment. He commented.

"I hate to say this, but you missed it."

Time stopped and not for a good reason. The strong, deep tones of his voice did not have Emily's heart thumping in her chest. The words that that voice spoke did.

"What?" she asked, blue eyes growing wide, lips falling apart to issue small gasping breaths. Spiders had always held a certain terror for her and a few torturous nights had only intensified the fear. She had learned never to stay the night at Logan's house if there was anything phobia or Animal Planet related he wanted to watch.

"It's just a little guy. Probably can't bite you," the cutie shrugged nonchalantly.

"Is there really a spider on my face?" Emily shrieked. Literally shrieked. It was a high, girly tone reserved only for moments of pure terror such as this. "Kill it!" she cried and began slapping at herself again, attacking every inch of skin on her face in terror. Embarrassment was forgotten. All that mattered was the evil monster crawling dangerously on her, certain to bring about an untimely death if it wasn't crushed beneath a hand.

"People think that I am crazy?" said an old, mirthful woman from behind the teen. That familiar voice was enough to draw Emily from her fear for about a half a second. In that half a second, Mr. Abttractive pressed his fingers against a small spot of heated flesh along the arachnophobic teen's jaw.

"Spider's dead," he announced with a grin. It was an alright grin. Altogether cute, but Emily had seen much better. He compensated in other ways very well.

"Is it really dead?" Em asked, feeling all along her face. It was warm. Red, she was sure, from the abuse. At the nod she received, a low relieved sigh slipped part her lips.

"Wouldn't lie to you," Mr. Abttractive replied, instantly worming his way higher on Emily's like list.

"Thank you," she said, shooting him a flirty, but grateful grin. A throat cleared from behind her. Right. Emily turned to the seventy-something year old woman. She looked better than the last time they had met, less dead and more alive although a crazy spark glittered in the familiar blue eyes. It ran in the West side of the family, as did the brown hair that on this grandmother was mostly grayed and pulled back into a tight, but messy bun.

"Grammy," the granddaughter greeted, all embarrassment and fear drifting away to confusion. No one had warned her the old lady was arriving today. And she had been enjoying having her own apartment. "Hi."

"What? No love for your Grammy, EmEm?" the other cooed, holding her arms out for an embrace.

"Uh, sorry," Emily apologized, a fake smile taking hold of her mouth. That nickname made her want to frown, as well as the rest of the rest of the situation. Regardless, she stepped forward and hugged the short woman. Pulling away, she smiled again.

"How about we go and continue this love fest upstairs in our apartment and out of the public eye?" the tomboy suggested. All of this public affection was making her uncomfortable and a few people were still staring, hoping to catch a glimpse of more drama. Politely, or out of a lack of interest (Em preferred to believe the former), Mr. Abttractive had continued on his way and left the scene. The savior from spiders was gone.

"Here. Let me take your things," Emily offered, going to reach for bags that were no where to be seen. She cocked her head to the side. "Grammy, where are your things?" she asked.

"I don't know," Grandma West replied.

"You don't know?"

"Where are _your_ things?"

"In the apartment," the teen replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, where are my things?"

Emily blinked. Emily stared. That expression was genuine. Her grandmother was seriously asking the question.

"I don't know! That's what I asked you!"

"I want my things!" the old woman shouted near tears, drawing more eyes.

"Okay! Okay!" Emily held out her hands, palm up, trying to pacify. "Your things… they're up in the apartment. Let's just go up there and you can see them."

It was a lie, clearly. But it was the quickest solution. The problem could be solved behind closed doors.

"Oh that's good, dear. I do so want my things," Grammy agreed. Em forced another smile and threw an arm around the other's shoulder, leading her to the elevator. It was as though a higher power was smiling down on her in a brief reprieve as the doors opened. The small means of transportation was empty.

The two stepped in and the tomboy was beyond grateful that her apartment was only one floor above. It was only a few second ride up. This suffering was short.

"So, Emily, dear, what have you been up to since we last saw one another?" Grammy asked.

"I've been, uh, doing stuff. You know, the usual. Hockey, piano, school, dance, interning."

"You are still dancing, right?" the old woman questioned, almost severely. Had Emily not just listed that?

"Yes, Grammy. I am still dancing."

"Good! Let me see some!"

Before the teen had time to fret about her grandmother's ridiculous request, the doors were sliding apart again. Another ray of sunshine lit the unpleasant situation. Conveniently, the boys of Big Time Rush were standing there, ready to bound into the small rectangle of space. The presence of an old woman and the best friend that was supposed to be already at the pool paused them, though.

"Guys," Emily smiled widely. After all of the crazy things she had helped them with, they could help her with her crazy thing. "Hey. Remember my Grammy? This is her. Grammy, remember the guys?"

"What guys?" the woman curiously asked.

"Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan. You know, the fours guys I've been best friends with since I was four. When I met them in peewee hockey," Em listed, waiting for the connection to be made. It was.

"The hockey demons," Grammy hissed. The sudden venom had the boys backing away. The doors started to shut. Oh no. They were not getting out of this so easily. Emily thrust her arm between the doors to stop it, reaching her fingers out to take a grasp of Logan's shirt and pull him in. But the boys were already running.

"Think we'll take the stairs!" Kendall called.

"Oh no they didn't!" Emily inhaled, furious. They were so not getting out of this! The doors shut. Her finger hovered over the lobby button. With an exhale, she pressed it. Time for more lying. "Grammy!" the teen was suddenly panicked. "Your stuff!"

"What about my stuff?"

"It's been stolen!"

"My stuff is stolen? This is horrible!"

"Yeah! Those hockey demons! They took your things!"

"I thought they took my stuff."

Wow. Grammy really had some issues. If this was how it was always going to be, Emily was pretty sure she was going to have to wrestle with responsibility and desire because responsibility required that she take care of her grandmother, remaining at the apartment as often as possible. Desire requested the opposite. It asked her to stay out and away as often as possible, practically living at 2J instead.

"They took your things _and_ your stuff! We have to get it back! Come on! I know where to find them!"

Grammy walked with surprising speed as the pair stalked to the pool. Emily had to wonder if the old woman knew why they were going about with anger or if she feigned purpose because her granddaughter clearly had one. Whichever was closest to true was unimportant. As long as Logan, Carlos, Kendall and James helped her. Said four boys were lounging on the usual four chairs that the five had decided was their own. The seat Logan and Emily shared looked so empty without her squishing in beside him.

As the teen stopped before them, the usual angry stance took place. Weight was distributed to one leg, the other kicked out. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her eyes were narrowed into a glare. Before anyone could say anything, Grammy was suddenly beating the boys with something, swinging and smacking.

Cries chorused together creating a cacophony of "ow"'s and "stop"'s and "stop her"'s and "help us"'s and "save us"'s "ah"'s. Arms rose to shield faces and James let out a shriek about one of the usual things, his hair or his face. Emily was busy being perplexed. Her grandmother had clearly recalled, but there was something more. What was she hitting those boys with?

"Grammy, is that a purse?" she asked.

"Yes!"

"Is that your purse?"

"Yes!" Grandmother West continued her assault.

"Where did you get it?"

"Over there in that pile!" the woman paused for just a second to point. Sure enough, sitting off to one side near the lobby doors was a mess of luggage, cases and bags.

"Grammy, is that your stuff?"

"No!"

"Grammy, is that your stuff?" Emily repeated.

"I don't know." The beating continued.

"Grammy, does that pile of things over there belong to you?"

"Yes!"

Emily could have slapped someone.

"Oh, look, Grammy! I found your things! The hockey demons have stopped hiding 'em" the teen shouted, falsely enthusiastic. "Let me go get them for you." After one final hit to each four boys, the beating stopped. Emily jogged over to the pile, picking up the first thing she reached. The small bag rattled in her hand. Curiously, she grasped the zipper and tugged, opening it. A myriad of orange bottles rested inside. "Grammy? What are these?"

"Oh, those are my pills. I'm supposed to take them every day. But after I left the home, my son hasn't been feeding them to me," Grammy frowned.

"Are you supposed to take all of these every day?" Emily asked. There were so many inside the little pouch! It could not be healthy, though, clearly, the old woman was already unhealthy.

"I don't know. Someone fed them to me." Of course she could not be expected to keep a handle on her own medication. The woman had proven herself mentally unstable in the short ten minutes Emily had spent with her. A sigh left the teen's lips. It was enough that she had to be responsible at work, but she had to be responsible for _this,_ too? Her mother was so getting a phone call.

"Wait. So, my uncle didn't give you any of your meds the time that you were staying with him?"

"No, dear. He just didn't have the time."

_Didn't have the time my butt! If I was the type to cuss, that man would have a long list launched at him!_ She had never liked her uncle. Although she and her mother had a hard time getting along, at least the woman was _mostly_ supportive and paid her attention. Her poor cousin Jade lived with a jerk who literally hated his daughter's life's passion and never had a kind word, if he had a word at all. It was disgustingly not a surprise that he would neglectful not only to his daughter, but his mother as well.

"So, you haven't taken anything for how many days now?" Emily asked.

"I think seven days, EmEm."

"A week?" the blue eye's grew wide incredulously.

"No, darling. Seven days."

That would explain why the elderly was so loopy. Heck, Emily was surprised Grammy wasn't in a much _worse_ condition. As far as she was aware, that woman needed to be taking things for her heart. A nauseating feeling wove its way into Emily's gut. She soon identified it. Worry. As horrifying as this entire situation had been and as little as she did not want to share her apartment, she still loved her grandmother and wanted her alive.

"Okay, Grammy, how about you tell the hockey demons to take your things upstairs and we'll get all settled in the apartment and I'll call someone, figure out what you're supposed to be taking when and then I'll feed you your pills. How does that sound?"

"Those hockey demons aren't going to steal my things again, are they?"

"No, they're not. You beat them into submission." Emily couldn't help the small smirk. That was how she worked a lot of the time. "They are now hockey angels. Just ask them nicely to carry your stuff and your things up and I bet they'll do it." Because if they didn't? Well, that was not only rude but dangerous. Clearly, Grammy had gotten over one aspect of girly nature, resorting to the violence she had always chastised Jade and Emily for. Glancing at the boys, Em offered an asking smile.

They stood.

They stood just as they always did. When it came down to it, they stuck by each other, no matter how inconvenient or stupid or dangerous or boring or loathed whatever one needed them for, they were there. It was simple. It was unwavering. It was like a small poem Emily had once read online. _Love, Loyalty and Friendship, I give to thee, For now- For always thru eternity_. They loved one another. They were always loyal. And the friendship the quintet carried would never fail, regardless of time and age. Although Emily didn't doubt that every single one of the boys wanted to do as she had wanted to and sit around at the pool, every single one of the boys stood and reached out to take the bags they had been beaten for.

Emily thanked them.

* * *

><p>When Gustavo had said that the hockey heads would make up every hour missed for his meeting, Emily had stupidly believed that to be a mild exaggeration and that they were really going to have a <em>slightly<em> longer work day, by maybe an hour or so. She had not expected a twelve hour torture. Every inch of her five foot eight frame was exhausted. Her time "off" had been spent getting Grammy settled and calling various persons and places to find out what and how much medication the old lady was supposed to be on when, which had been a bust. There had also been a lengthy phone call spent complaining to Mrs. Greene about the unfairness and ridiculousness of being this level of responsible. The conversation had gotten both of them no where.

Eventually, morning had arrived and eight had found the Minnesotan five at Rocque Records. Twelve hours. Twelve long, without pay, hours. While the boys had sang and danced, Emily had run back and forth and delivered coffee and organized and wrote and danced as well. Apparently the band learned choreography a fraction faster when she helped, likely due to hockey metaphors and nonsensical explanations. Gustavo abused the advantage. After the day was done, the five returned home via limo, ready to relax. To make up for the time lost with Grammy, the first stop was the pool.

"Five hours of dance," said Logan as they stumbled along to their usual seats.

"Seven hours of harmonies," Carlos groaned.

"Twelve hours of agony," Emily sighed.

"Sweated through fourteen bandannas," James gestured to the blue fabric tied around his head.

They all took a seat. As usual, Logan and Emily perched beside one another.

"Thank god we can escape the stresses of Hollywood at the amazing Palm Woods pool," Kendall added, setting his hands behind his head. Suddenly, a bell sounded and a chunky woman stalked over.

"What's this?" she shouted, looking quite annoyed. Emily made a face at her. "I didn't order extras!"

"Uh," Kendall rose an eyebrow, sitting up in confusion. "We live here. This is our pool."

"No!" the woman responded, and the tomboy sat up now. This lady was not taking the proper attitude or tone if she wanted anything from them. Then again, Emily was exhausted. Her body felt weak. Maybe Mrs. Annoyed and Chunky could get away with it. Em wasn't teaching her a lesson today. "This is the set for the Sexy Dog dog food commercial starring Lightning the TV Wonder Dog!"

The five lifted limp arms in lazy waves. "Hey Lightning."

The dog waved back in his awkwardly human way and barked a response that Emily interpreted to be a falsely cheerful "help me". What else could he be saying? She would not have wasted breath with a greeting when about to embarrass herself with a commercial for a brand of dog food called Sexy Dog. If Lightning had any respect for himself, he would not willingly stoop so low. Or at least, Emily thought so. Until she recalled the fact that Lighting was a _dog_. An animal. With a smaller brain than humans and no literal ability to speak. Lightning may have the freakish ability to act and understand like a person more than even some rednecks and racists, but he was still a dog and therefore had an owner somewhere (whom Emily had never seen) that made this decision and all of the decisions.

"Strike the teens!" the woman cried. A sudden handful of man grabbed the tired hockey players, lifting them up and carrying them despite vigorous vocal protests (too tired to produce physical protest). Finally, they were deposited on the orange two seater couches in the lobby. Emily found herself warmly squished between Kendall and Logan. Thankfully, due to air conditioning blasted in the limo, none were sweaty, though the scent of working out clung to each of them. At least they had some sort of spray or deodorant mixing with that smell. The odor of the body full on from any of them, Emily included, was gag inducing.

"Well at least we can recharge in the stylish Palm Woods lobby," Kendall smiled, finding the light in the situation. He was good for that.

"Ah!" Bitters faked a laugh as he walked up. "The five hockey players from Minnesota." The façade of pleasant faded into a frigid frown. A pointer was thrown into his hand from what appeared to be a very frazzled assistant manager.

"I'm not getting a friendly vibe," Logan said.

The pointer snapped against the dry erase board. Upon it were a list of rules.

_Let's see,_ Emily thought to herself, _We've got no loud music. Well forget you. We're teenagers. Loud music is like the law. Mm. No ball playing. I hope that means only in the lobby because I want to play. No pool parties. Aw, man. We're teenagers! Partying is like the law, too! And if there's a pool, that should be party central! And then there's-_

"No loitering in the lobby after nine," Bitters emphasized the final rule. "Oh. Look at the time. Nine oh one."

And so the five trudged to the final haven, the apartment of filth.

"Then there's the gracious interior of our very own apartment 2J," Kendall said with zero enthusiasm. Glancing around, Emily could only agree with the tone. 2J was an absolute dump. How the boys had been saddled with something so disgraceful while her own abode was lovely, she could not understand. It was only too unfortunate that Grammy now tainted the once relaxing place or the five would have been there instead of shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm.

"Why can't there ever be a five seater couch?" Emily complained beneath her breath.

"This place is horrible!" Carlos and Logan agreed. The couch began to slowly shift. _Bam_! It collapsed with a loud thud, jarring the teens seated on the lumpy expanse.

"Ouch…"

* * *

><p>Kendall incessantly tapped the bell on the front desk. Emily had half a mind to grab his bracelet wearing wrist and stop him simply because it was annoying. She also had half a mind that said she did not want to return to her apartment and Grammy just yet, so staying while her blond friend did as he pleased seemed the better option. Soon enough, Bitters appeared, mouth full of French fries.<p>

"What?" he shouted around the food and Emily scrunched up her nose in disgust. He was a grown man. Didn't he have any manners? "I'm busy!" Clearly not. Treating paying guests so rudely? If he wasn't the building manager, she would have risked earning a few harassment charges.

"We'd like a nicer apartment, please," Kendall said politely.

"Yeah," James agreed. "How come everyone else gets one of those cool apartments like Emily?"

"And ours is a big time dump," Carlos added.

"2J a dump?" Bitters protested, a chunk of fry flying out of his mouth, smacking grossly against Logan's cheek. Emily patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, eyes set into a glare on the man. No manners at all. "If by dump, you mean really cool."

"Yeahhh, I don't think so," Emily commented.

Trying to prove a false point, the cantankerous manager led them back up the room for a "grand tour".

"As you know," he entered with a flourish, "the Palm Woods is home of the future famous. Do you know how many showbiz legends have stayed in this very room?" He was using a voice Emily didn't very much like. It was a cross between a pathetic sales pitch and anyone stupid talking to a baby or a puppy. Patronizing. That's what it was. Emily really did not like it. And Kendall, being Kendall, had a reply.

"Do you know how many stains and smells there are in this very room?"

"If you spill, it's a stain," Bitters stated. "When Lindsey Lohan throws up chocolate milk, it's history."

_Gag_. The immediate response Emily gave. "I thought that was just chocolate milk," she frowned, glancing at the brown spot near her feet, then gagged again. "Not throw up. Oh my god." _She_ was going to throw up next. What kind of manager and housing staff didn't get that cleaned up stat?

"And this slight blemish?" Bitters crossed the room, pointing out a break in the drywall. "The result of a Shia LeBouf indoor soccer game."

There was an upside! At least they could play some sports in the apartment. That would make up for the disgust.

"No soccer in the rooms."

Or maybe not. But hey. He had said _soccer_. That still left hope for other games. Like indoor hockey. Destructive and stupid but an absolutely worth it blast.

"And are you telling me!" The man was waddling about the room again. "That you're too good for the tv!" He set his hand down lightly (probably afraid that it was going to break) on an old box of a television. The thing had to have at least ten years old. The one in 2H was much nicer. "That was enjoyed by Kanye West when he was known around here as Lil Kanye West?"

"I'm pretty sure that he was never known as Lil Kanye West," Emily pointed out despite her lack of contemporary music knowledge. That received her a stern stare.

"Can we at least paint the place?" Kendall asked.

"No, cuz your lease specifically states that there will be no painting. No-" he stopped, apparently spotting the next offense. Bitters pushed past the teens who parted to avoid touching. "No hanging of personal pictures." He pulled the framed photo of Katie, Kendall and Mrs. Knight off of the wall, revealing another break in the wall. Emily fondly recognized the picture as taken from a hockey game that the boys had done particularly well in, during a championship. The tomboy had ditched a dance rehearsal to watch. When her mom found out, she had been grounded for a week, but it had been very worth it. Especially because she still ducked out of the house and managed to evade being caught then.

"I'll allow this one." He then continued to list more rules. "No construction of any kind and there is no way I am putting four hockey playing hooligans into one of my finer apartments! If I had known this one!" He pointed a stubby finger at Emily, "Was one of you four, _she_ wouldn't be in a nice apartment either!"

Well. That was offensive, though Emily felt the smallest of smug smirks meet her lips. Now that she had her lease, he couldn't kick her out to a worse place without provocation and Emily was very good at hiding evidence of said provocation, were she to chose to skirt around a few rules.

"So," Carlos stepped forward with a hopeful smile. The four surrounding him wore matching expressions. "That means installing an indoor swirly slide is completely out of the question?"

"This matter, like this door, is closed." Bitters slammed the door shut. The picture on the wall fell off.

"I'm surprised the pipe didn't burst," the Latino commented.

As if on cue, the pipe burst, a fine spray of water reaching even the furthest of the five.

"Of course," Emily blinked water away from her eyes.

"The pipe just burst," James stated the obvious.

"Yup," Kendall agreed. "We need a new crib."

"Yeah. Right. Like that's just going to fall from the sky." Logan had to be pessimistic, although he asserted he was merely a realist.

"Well! I agree with Logan and Kendall. Now, as for me, I am tired and wet and I have a grandmother drug. So, I will leave you now and go to my non-smelly, non-crappy apartment and see you all tomorrow! Good night."

Emily turned and walked out.

* * *

><p>Work the next day was quite interesting. The quintet had bizarre luck. Partway through the day, they found themselves seated in the usual meeting room with some other team Emily couldn't bother to pay much attention to, too tired to care about work as much as usual. Despite returning to her apartment at a fair time for sleep, Grammy had kept her up plenty of the night, having an awfully hard time adjusting to her new home. Sometimes she forgot that she was there. Another five times she had called Emily by her mother's name, Christina. It was fairly disconcerting. And so some time during the night, the teen called Grammy's usual doctor to set an appointment so that: A- Emily could decipher what regular behavior was supposed to be like; B- she could figure out <em>why<em> her grandmother was the way she was; C- try to get a little peace of mind.

When her grandmother had suffered some almost deadly something or rather, Emily had distanced herself from the problem. It was easiest to deal with death not knowing the details. She had assumed that Grammy's condition at the time was only going to worsen so she had blocked out every word spoken to her about it until she had heard "better" and "recovery" and "alive". Those three were all she needed to know. Although Emily generally liked knowing and understanding, there were plenty of situations where _not_ knowing was better. Like how exactly Grammy was kicked out of her home. Though the various possibilities were starting to become clear.

Regardless, the whatever team had a very nice drawing of an amazing looking apartment. It had pretty colors (with a wonderful lack of pink and a sad lack of green, the favorite color she was stupidly proud to share a last name with). And it looked like it had a lot of nice features, like a huge televisions, game systems, music players and a swirly slide. Although she liked swings better, a slide in an apartment was completely cool.

"We call it the ultimate teen crib," a blond woman said. "Filled with amazing home electronics, arcade games-"

"A swirly slide!" Carlos shouted in glee. The woman shot him a wink with a hint of justifiable pride.

Emily could only imagine what her face looked like. Probably not as stupidly excited as her friends that, okay, maybe looked a little adorable. With her combination of tired and understanding of this design not being a real place, gushing about whatever idea she was sure was beginning to grow in Kendall's mind was unlikely.

"Cool, right?" Griffin asked. "Put a swirly slide in my office." That black guy was a familiar face, but the Asian woman beside him was new. What had happened to the other assistant the CEO had had a week ago?

"Griffin, I don't know what this is," Gustavo gestured towards the drawing, "but I need to work with the dogs on harmonies today." This man was more of a Debby Downer than Logan was.

"Change your plans. Our ancient Japanese founder, Mr. Fujisaki, wants to dump our music division." This was a look Emily could share wholeheartedly with the others. Surprise. A hint of disbelief. More than a dash of fear. "But your boys are going to change his mind." How was it that Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan were so quickly sated by this statement? Boy bands were from the nineties, not from ancient times. It would not be quite so unbelievable that Mr. Ancient would hate them. And that meant not only their job, but hers.

"And we get to live in there?" Kendall pointed enthusiastically. There was that practically one track mind again.

"Yes," Griffin nodded. "For two hours, while you shoot a promotional video surrounded by RCM CBT GlobalNet Sanyoid products." The old CEO crossed the room to the other end of the table. _Does that mean missiles, too?_ Emily wondered, briefly forgetting the very serious predicament. _I hope that means missiles, too. That would be awesome._ "Which will show Fujisaki why our future rock stars are perfect for selling his blenders, plasma Tvs, and missile defense systems."

"That's awesome," the intern blurted out.

"It is awesome, indeed," Griffin agreed, seating himself across from the rest. "Oh, and, do some interviews. You know, why they love to sing, why they wear that helmet and why they love RCM CBT GlobalNet Sanyoid arcade games, industrial strength playground slides and," an object smaller than a text book was set onto his awaiting hand, "the new XZ5 Micro-Laptop. Look how tiny."

That was a nice looking laptop.

James slapped his hands down on the desk, excited once more, though not for the expected reason.

"And we can all wear bandanas! I-it could be our thing! _Bandanas_."

The exclamation was met with blank faces, a shutting of the XZ5 and a slap on the back of James's head delivered by Emily. Although she didn't hate bandanas (when worn properly, they could look pretty kick butt and intimidating), James was being stupid with them.

"Griffin," Gustavo spoke up, "you can't keep coming into my studio every day and interrupting my training sessions."

"Yes, I can," the boss retorted calmly. "And, do the videos by the water. Fujisaki thinks water is lucky." He paused. "It's weird."

"But you want a performance in the teen hangout crib thing?" Kelly asked for clarification.

"Exactly. And I need it in two days. Or the music division will be gone."

The gravity of the situation seemed to suddenly make its force known, dropping jaws, raising heads, widening eyes.

"But have fun with it," Griffin grinned as he stood. Then he took his leave. A recovered Kelly turned to a still affected Gustavo.

"Okay. We'll build the teenage crib here in Studio A. Emily and I will find a nice beach location for the interviews and put in some calls for a hot director," the dark woman said, phone finding her hand.

"I'm a hot director!" Gustavo raised his voice, hands meeting the desk loudly as he stood. "And we're doing everything here because it's easier, quicker and cheaper." _Because that's respectable, Mr. Big Man,_ Emily rolled her eyes. "You." He pointed to the still standing there blond woman. "I wanna show you where you're gonna build this thing." The three adults of the room exited. The five teens of the room remained, staring at the teen crib design. Kendall stole it.

* * *

><p>Kendall, James, Logan, Carlos and Emily stood in 2J, staring at the possibilities.<p>

"No! No way! It's impossible!" Logan shook his head, statement directed solely at Kendall. He _was_ the one that made these sorts of plans real. As usual, the blond had a speech to convince the smart boy and to begin that speech, he pushed the drawing into Logan's arms.

"A week ago we were a hockey team in Minnesota and today we're a band in LA. Anything is possible." _Kendall needs to judge days better. And we're not _all_ a band._ So maybe Emily was still a little sore about her position. It was different than that four being on a hockey team together and her on a separate one. They were going to be stars and making the big bucks. She was going to be struggling at an earn nothing job for months with hopes of something better. But Em was not one to be bitter or jealous. It was not her and she needed to get over it. At least she did not have to sing or dance as often or be molested by stylists.

"Okay, you have a point. But how are we going to get all of this?" He pointed at the design. "In here."

Completely off topic, James offered his own ideas. Flamboyantly, he offered an array of bandanas. "Pick any color you want," he smiled proudly.

"We're not wearing bandanas in the video, okay?" Kendall instantly shut him down.

"You know what?" the pretty boy complained. "You guys never support my risky fashion choices!"

"That's because they're always lame," Emily pointed out.

"Ha!" James scoffed. "My fashion choices are lame? Have you looked in the mirror? Jeans that don't flatter the form and a sweatshirt? So not risky and so not fashionable!"

"Like I care? I don't dress to impress. Unlike some people, I have enough confidence in myself that how I dress doesn't matter. Love me or hate me. Take me as I am. And give me that." The tomboy snatched a green bandana from his hand. A smug look crossed James's face. If she hadn't been busy tying the fabric around her muscular thigh, she would have hit him. Scratch that. When she finished tying, she socked him in the arm.

"Now the first step is getting the set designer to build the ultra teen crib here and not Rocque Records," Kendall continued, ignoring what had transpired between the two.

"Mm, yeah. That's simple," Logan agreed with enthusiastic sarcasm. "And how are we gonna do that?"

Kendall was looking smug again. "Logan. Are you forgetting the Palm Woods is the home of the future famous."

Those words were all the five needed to understand the first step of the plan. The quintet had an unspoken communication when it came to schemes. It was another expression of the years they had spent together and the strong bond they shared. Down the stairs they raced. Suddenly, Kendall stopped them, arms held out.

"Wait for it," he said surely.

Suddenly, Camille stomped up and struck Kendall across the cheek. "Trevor!" she cried. "I trusted you with my heart, my soul, my money-!"

"Camille!" Kendall interrupted. Immediately, she was out of character and as normal as Camille could be.

"What?" she asked.

"We need to borrow your acting," the four boys said.

"And you need to stop slapping my friends without explicit permission or I will slap you," Emily added. The method actress stared for a moment., then shrugged.

"Okay," she agreed to both.

* * *

><p>In a rather bored silence, the quintet stood outside, waiting for a hopeful success as Camille did the boys their favor. So far, Emily couldn't <em>hate<em> the other darker haired female. They had managed a few conversations and some of the acting the actress did was entertaining, albeit not always very good. However, she had that nasty habit of hitting whoever the heck she wanted and if she wanted to hit Emily's boys? That was a problem. Emily was the only one allowed to do that. At least Camille was smart enough not to hit her. There was the very obvious promise of a more painful retaliation looming overhead that likely stopped the crazy girl. And she _was _still crazy. Emily had no doubt about that, nor too many complaints about it either. Her crazy was easy to deal with.

Kendall's cell phone rang. He answered. "Arthur Griffin's office." The smile that went with the tone was unnecessary, but funny enough. "One moment please." As he slapped the phone into a wide eyed Logan's hand, he commanded the brainy boy, "Do your Griffin impression now." Emily had heard the impression before. It wasn't very good, but it was better than anything she could manage.

Logan hesitated, trying to protest when Kendall did what Emily had been planning on doing: stomping on Logan's foot. With a cry of pain, he accepted the phone, and promptly ceased his complaints to do as requested. "Hello?" he greeted with a deep voice. It reminded Emily of the guy on the radio cliché. "Uh-uh." The others listened anxiously. Camille reappeared. "Yes. Move that set to the Palm Woods. Now." More silence as the other end spoke. Excitement was clearly running through the three boys not on the phone. "Okay, I need to touch my llama now. Bye." He hung up quickly.

For a short moment, Emily stared at Logan. As everyone else began their cheers, she bust out laughing at gave the brain a playful shove. "Touch your llama?" she teased, although that did seem oddly like something Griffin might do.

"I owned them in there," Camille bragged, probably proud of her acting skills. Inwardly, Emily sighed. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try being nice to a girl and maybe having a female friend outside of sports (not that she was entirely sure she wanted to have any close female friends; girls were annoying and catty).

"You did well," she tried to smile. It was awkward.

"All you've done is set us up for big time trouble!" Logan complained, his Debby Downer showing.

"Oh our little Logie. So pessimistic," Kendall chastised.

"So scared of everything," Carlos added.

"And so hot," Camille said, trying to devour the smart boy with her intense hungry gaze.

"So weird," Emily commented on the girl, vaguely disturbed. Sure Logan had his own attractive characteristics, but the tomboy never would have called him hot. Or tried to eat him with her eyes. It was weird.

"Ohhkay," Logan said, then returned to the other statements that were _not_ as creepy. "And I am not scared. I'm realistic. As in, what are you going to tell your mom about the crew that will be invading her apartment tomorrow from eleven to three?"

* * *

><p>Although Emily was terribly hungry and curious about the progression of Kendall's plan, there were bigger things on her mind. Like the woman whose hand was clasped in her own as they perched on uncomfortable seats in the doctor's waiting room.<p>

"Emily? Why are we here?" the old woman asked. Emily sighed.

"I already told you, Grammy. We are here because I wanted to ask your doctor about your medicine. Remember when your son wasn't feeding them to you? We have to see if that's a problem." She also had to see if this crazy behavior was normal and if so? Why and how was she expected to deal with it. But that wasn't anything her grandmother needed to know.

"Lollipop I have can?" Grammy said, mixing the order of her words, something Emily had noticed a few times. It was a concern, but easy to deal with.

"If you behave the whole time, we will get a sweet." She couldn't just indulge the old woman in whatever she wanted. It was unhealthy and reinforced an idea that she was entitled to it and that Emily should give it to her when she wanted. Instead, to strike a deal was conditioning. Emily liked psychological conditioning. She could understand and implement it. In most cases. Carlos never learned. Maybe he had hit his head too many times…

"Mary West?" a nurse with a chart called.

Emily stood, pulling Grammy up with her.

* * *

><p>"Vascular dementia?" Emily repeated in disbelief. "So, my Grammy has dementia? She really is crazy."<p>

"You're crazy! Slapping yourself in public." Grandmother West retorted and began to laugh. It was a little frightening.

"I would not use the term crazy," Doctor Moore insisted. "But yes. Mrs. West is afflicted by a degenerative brain condition."

"And this is from that big stroke she had a few years ago?" the teen asked, eyes still wide. _Dementia_. The idea kept coursing through her mind.

"It began with that, yes. I suspect, though, after hearing some of your complaints, that she may have suffered a few transient ischemic attacks, TIAs, or mini strokes, that worsened the condition, as is typical with the most common form of vascular dementia. If you would, I would like to ask a few questions about symptoms she may or may not have been exhibiting. Sound good?"

"I guess?" The teen was still to digest the information she'd been given. The forty-something year old doctor began to read off of a chart in his hand.

"Okay. Has she had any confusion?"

"Yes. Definitely. Often." He checked.

"Trouble paying attention and concentrating?"

"Not that much? I mean, she gets distracted, but if she really wants something, she remembers."

"EmEm, darling, don't forget my lollipop," Grammy said with a warm smile. Doctor Moore checked again.

"A reduced ability to organize thoughts or actions?" he asked. Emily paused to think.

"Uh… not that I've noticed, but I've only lived with her for a couple of days and I work so I might be missing things," she answered. He did not check.

"Difficulty in ability to analyze, plan or communicate a plan?"

"Ability to analyze? Yes. The other two I haven't seen much of, if any."

Emily couldn't believe that she was doing this, that she was sitting in a doctor's office for her grandmother, discovering that she was crazy and discussing with said doctor just how crazy. Although she had been aware that Grammy was a little off the rocker, she hadn't realized that she was _a lot_ off of the rocker. The questioning continued. And Grammy was like the child throughout the entire thing. Not spoken directly to. The non-responsible party.

"What about memory problems?"

"Oh yeah. No question about that one. She forgets a lot. I had to explain to her a few times why we were here." More checking. It continued on (with Grammy chiming in now and again) for a few more minutes before Doctor Moore set down his clipboard and sighed, middle finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Greene," he lifted his head. "I don't find it advisable that you are her only caretaker."

"Neither do I. But it's my only 'stay in LA' option. Just give it to me straight, Doc. How bad is it and what do I have to do to make it not as bad?"

He sighed again.

"It has certainly progressed a great deal since the last check up, which is why I wonder if she's suffered more strokes during her time unsupervised. Regardless, her condition is only going to worsen, as dementia is degenerative. Although with medication being properly administered again, certain symptoms might lessen, I'm afraid that you are going to have your hands full."

"So giving her meds is all I can do? Won't the amount she's on overload her heart or organs or whatever?" Emily asked.

"Not necessarily, but eventually some of the medications will eventually be too weak to make a worthwhile difference and at Mary's age organs give out on their own. Unless she suffers from more strokes, however, I suspect that she'll be just fine for awhile still. And there are other ways to help ease the struggles that come with dementia. It helps to keep a schedule and have a routine. Don't change too much. Keep calendars and clocks around. Explain everything that you can to your grandmother. Keep her busy and stimulated."

Silence.

"Um… did you forget the part where I'm a teenager and I have a job?" Emily asked. With a sad smile, Doctor Moore shook his head.

"I did say it was unadvisable for you to be her only caretaker. Perhaps you can hire a nurse to help out? Until symptoms progress to a state where Mary is no longer capable of taking care of herself. When that time comes, I highly suggest a nursing home where she may receive constant attention."

Emily snorted. "Constant attention? Please! I've heard plenty of believable horror stories about those places. I doubt that's the best option. Anyway, just, write down the medications she's supposed to be taking when and thanks…"

"It's my job," Doctor Moore shrugged and jotted down a few things before handing Emily a sheet.

"I behaved, did I not, EmEm?" Grammy asked.

"You did, Grammy."

"Even though I should be allowed to explain my health own to my own doctor. I am still dignified. I cannot believe that you have treated me like such a child." Instead of crying, she began to titter and giggle again. One of the symptoms that was discussed. Laughing and crying at inappropriate times. Life with Grammy was going to be fun…

* * *

><p>Emily had been at work for an entire hour and thus far, she had been disturbed by what she had seen. Gustavo's intentions for the video were absolutely pathetic and frankly <em>lame<em>. If he was serious about making this Big Time Rush thing work, he needed to put a lot more effort into it. And money. The cheap plastic sheet hung up to simulate a beach and water? It was full of creases and crinkles. The fake seagull attached to a string attached to a stick attached to a man handling it? She was really tempted to pull a mock Ozzy Osborne and bite the head off of it.

Then came the savior. Hallelujah rang through the teenager's skull. Kelly. By the look on her face? She agreed. And hopefully Gustavo would listen to her.

"You cannot shoot against this," the woman said.

"Thank you!" Emily threw her arms up in relief. "I've been saying that for only, oh, an hour!"

"Intern, quiet. And, yes I can," Gustavo stated, continuing to visualize a shot that had to be hideous.

"Fujisaki is going to know that water is fake," Kelly continued. Her concern seemed genuine. It was one of the things Em liked about her. And not Gustavo.

"Fujisaki is over two hundred years old. All he knows is what yogurt he likes. And, oh. Yeah. _I say so_!"

"Dude, my grammy is _demented_ and she knows that that's fake," Emily shot out, but the statement went ignored as he looked over something on Kelly's phone. She would have been more offended, but her best friends had arrived and whatever they had going on had to be better than this. As the four approached, Gustavo held out a hand.

"Heel," he said, not bothering to look up yet. The boys stopped, though it was more from the fact that they were about as close as they wanted to be than from the order. "Stay." They all shared glances. "Speak."

Kendall immediately held up a few photos. "We took some pictures at the pool at the Palm Woods, the greatest pool ever. Very lucky water." In Emily's opinion, the blond was doing a poor job of convincing, but the photos he handed Kelly _were_ nice and she had to wonder when the heck they'd found time to do it. Probably that morning when she was convincing Grammy that going outside was a bad idea, reteaching her how to use her cell phone and going to work. Those boys were lucky. "It's a great location for the interviews!"

"Hot directors shoot there all the time," Carlos added exuberantly, before shouting out a stupid, word vomit "Swirly slide!" James slapped the back of his head. Emily kicked his shin.

Gustavo was unimpressed.

"Oh, the dogs are directing my video, now. Well let me tell you how it works here. You are the dogs. And I am the trainer. Now sit." Kendall stared, looking quite offended that he would be ordered like that. Logan looked confused. Emily found both fair. Did Gustavo really think he could order them around like animals?

"Don't sit," Mr. Big Man ordered next. When the four boys fell for the blatant, obvious, overly duh reverse psychology, Emily could have slapped each and every one of them for their stupidity. Instead, she slapped her own forehead.

"This pool looks great. And it's close enough that we could be back by three to shoot the performance at the ultra teen hangout place," Kelly said, physically showing the side she was on by a subtle change in position. The excitement bursting off of the boys at the shift was kind of cute. Emily took two steps forward and turned, ending by Logan to create a completely united front against the music producer. Together, the five commended "Kelly's" idea. "Oh yeah!" they agreed.

"No yeah!" Gustavo shot back as loudly as usual. "You do what I say and I say no. No! No!" He was jumping and shouting now. Frankly, Emily was embarrassed for him. He was having a tantrum like a little kid. An oversized little kid she wanted to punch. With a final jump and "No!" the floor vibrated beneath their feet and the poorly set up set up came crashing down, everything falling one after another. The curtain. The light. The other light. A cat?

"Hey. Let's do the interviews at the Palm Woods," Gustavo said in perhaps the quietest Emily had ever heard him. It was almost disconcerting. There was no power behind it. There was no command. Maybe that was why he shouted everything out. Or maybe he was just a jerk.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long until the large group had made their way to the Palm Woods again. Throughout the entire deal striking ordeal with Bitters, Emily stood by Kelly, learning the tricks of the trade. Apparently with greedy sleazes like him, the only trick was coughing up more cash.<p>

"Here's a check for the location fees and thanks for making this happen," Kelly said, handing him the promised amount.

"There's also a Making This Happen fee for me making this happen," Bitters grinned. As if he deserved it.

With a roll of her eyes, Kelly signed another check and forked it over. "Five hundred?"

"I'll be in my office if you need me," Mr. Sleaze giggled and speed walked away, just a moment away from breaking into a jog. It was as though he was afraid the money would be taken away.

"Five hundred?" Emily asked Kelly. "I don't get it. He didn't _do_ anything. Why are you paying him that?" The other sighed.

"You'll find in this business that it's easiest to appease those that you can. If he really wanted to, he could kick us off of the property. If five hundred keeps that guy away? It's worth it," she explained.

Emily supposed that made sense, though she still did not approve. Bitters deserved a bruise more than five hundred bucks. Of course, Em wasn't the appeasing type. It felt like backing off and she _never_ backed off because she was always right (unless she felt victory came a different way or the situation was not winnable).

"This mic over here needs batteries!" the vague cry met Emily's ears. Thinking nothing of it, she followed Kelly back to Gustavo. As she stood waiting instruction, her gaze drifted to the boys who were just finishing up their make-up and hair. She could have laughed. The four boys wore more make-up than she did.

"Gustavo," some woman jogged up, holding a wireless lapel microphone with a disgruntled expression. "The batteries in this mic are dead. We can't get any clear audio without it."

"Does no one have a few triple A's?" the record producer bellowed. The woman shook her head.

"I'll go pick up a pack from the store," Emily offered, eager to please her boss.

As though he hadn't heard the offer, Gustavo turned to her. "Intern! Go get some batteries! And tell Kelly to give you the money."

"Oh-kay," Em furrowed her brows, but turned to the dark woman anyway. Without a word and busy on the phone, Kelly held out a wad of cash. Again the tomboy stared. That was a lot more than necessary. But, not about to argue, she grabbed the money and stuck the bills in her pocket. Now she needed a car. Time to hit Mrs. Knight up for the rental again…

* * *

><p>As her fingers closed around the case of Energizer triple A batteries, her cell phone rang.<p>

"Hello?"

"_Emily! I need you to stall!"_

"Knight, are you kidding me?" she spat.

"_Come on! We need you to stall Gustavo! Just for a little while."_

Emily heaved a sigh. It was hard to say no to Kendall and his charisma.

"This had better be worth it, Knight! If I get fired for this, you owe me. Big time."

"_What do I owe you this time? My soul?"_

"No! What could I do with your soul?"

"_I don't know. What could you do with my soul?"_

They had this conversation many times. Each time, Kendall offered his soul and Emily denied it, claiming that it was worthless. He would prompt her and she would give a different use each time. It was silly and stupid but was another facet of their friendship. And it often diffused any anger Emily might harbor.

"Nothing useful," she responded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, I could sell your soul to some music producer even more evil and more of a slave driver than Gustavo for big bucks. Then not only would you be tortured, but I'd get a payday, which sounds like a good deal if I get fired. So, maybe you will owe me your soul."

"_Is that all you got?" _he asked, cocky as ever.

"We'll see. Better be worth it, Knight," she repeated.

"_It will be."_

He hung up.

"I hate you, Kendall." Emily left the batteries, left the store. Standing on the sidewalk out front, another sigh escaped. "Stall… stall… How shall I stall? How shall I stall thee on a warm winter's day? Shall I sigh as I say- I'm talking to myself." Which, although it wasn't necessarily a sign of crazy, it still felt like it. Her stomach started a steady growl. "And I'm hungry," she acknowledged. It was fairly understandable. With the doctor's appointment the night before, she had missed dinner at 2J and ended up with a measly piece of toast. Breakfast had been the same with the later than necessary wake-up and "earlier than others" work. Might as well take a premature lunch break. The only question was where. Unmotivated to get back into the borrowed rental, she instead took to walking down the street. Hands stuffed in jean pockets, Emily went along, passing a few places that looked too rundown to earn her money.

Up ahead, there was a curious sight. A line was forming well outside of a building. If that was food, it had to be good. As she drew closer, the store front became clear. It was a sandwich shop, just opened. Looking at a menu in the clean window, she saw combinations to her liking at barely unreasonable prices which, in her eyes, made the cost reasonable. With a shrug, Emily stepped in line. This seemed like a sufficient method for stalling.

Standing there in moderate silence (her stomach still growled quite vocally), Emily took the time to study her surroundings. Eventually, she stopped to stare at the figure in line ahead of her. That back looked _so familiar_, but she could not place it. The shoulders were strong, but lowered in relaxation. The back had that beautiful, manly, upside down trapezoid shape. That butt…

Her stomach practically snarled.

The figure turned to her with a chuckle.

"Hungry?" it asked.

For a moment, Emily simply stared. It was impossible not to. This was Mr. Abttractive, which would explain the familiarity. Emily had spent time studying the aft side of this male on a few brief occasions.

"Hey. You're Mr. Saved Emily From Spider," she greeted quickly enough, a grin fast to form. "Thanks for that again." Her stomach kicked up another round of churning acidic complaints. "And I am _very_ hungry."

"I can tell," he smirked. "And although I'd love to be remembered as a hero, name's Wyatt Crighton." He offered her a hand. She shook it firmly, confidently, as she knew she should. His hand was warm, large, but smooth. His grip was strong.

"Greene. Emily Greene. Nice to officially meet you."

"You've got some rough hands," he pointed out, then quickly shook his head. "I hope I

didn't just insult you. I know a lot of girls kill to have soft hands. But, you don't seem like other girls."

Was that a flirty smile Emily spied?

Was that a flirty giggle that she responded with?

"Don't worry," she said, moving as the line shifted forward. "I'm not like other girls and I'm proud of my calluses. All are well earned. Mostly from hockey."

"Hockey, eh?" he asked, seeming impressed. "That's cool. A very tough sport. Is that how you got that scar on your chin?"

Emily sighed, rolled her eyes. "No. That would be courtesy of one Carlos Garcia. The only 'injuries' I've received from hockey are a few bruises, calluses, cuts and scrapes. Nothing serious."

"Who's Carlos? Your boyfriend?"

A snort of laughter tore from Emily.

"Please! I'd sooner punch Carlos than kiss him! Ew. No. He's one of my best friends. You know the four new guys at the Palm Woods? That came at the same time I did?"

Wyatt shook his head.

"They sang the Giant Turd Song?"

"Oh. Those guys. Yeah. I've seen them around. You're friends with those dudes?"

"Yup. We've been best friends since we were four. Met in PeeWee hockey and have been inseparable since."

"Cool. So, what are you doing at the Palm Woods. Here to be a model?" Another snort.

"Heck no. I'm here interning at Rocque Records, where my buddies are becoming the boy band Big Time Rush. What are you here for?"

"Acting," he responded.

"Really? Are you sure _you_ are not here to be a model?"

The conversation continued as the line continued to move. The complaints of her stomach never ceased. Eventually, their speaking paused as Wyatt ordered his food (a manly sandwich Emily approved of). Finally, it was her turn. Jovially, she stepped up to the counter, lips parting to request her meal when suddenly, she was jolted to the side.

"Out of my way," a female with a dog on her arm growled, settling herself where Emily had stood just moments before.

"Excuse me?" Emily responded. These people in Los Angeles really needed to learn that behavior like this was not acceptable. "I was waiting here for half an hour! You cannot just storm up to the front and cut me."

The blond didn't bother looking at the brunette.

"I am Mercedes Griffin. I can do whatever I want. So shut up so I can get my food."

"I am hungry. If you don't get out of my way right now I am going to not only physically beat you, but I am going to take that rat dog of yours and sell it to some Korean food shop, let them butcher and cook it. And then? Then I'll eat it because _you_ got in my way and wouldn't let me order my friggin' sandwich that I've been waiting half an hour for! Gotta handle the hunger somehow. Why not with your ugly pooch?"

The entire shop was silent after Emily's colorful explosion.

"How dare you threaten me and Fruipy!" this Mercedes finally shot back. "My father is going to hear about this!"

"Your father can hear about whatever the heck he wants as long as you get out of my way and I get fed." Standing in the way of a starving teenager was dangerous. Especially when said starving teenager had anger issues.

"You will never work in this town!" the blond shouted. And then turned on heel with a "humph!" and stormed out, literally stomping her loud shoes as she went.

"Yeah! Real graceful!" Emily called after her. "Thanks for leaving!" With a roll of the eyes, the ravenous tomboy approached the counter again. Politely, she smiled. Her attitude had done a one eighty. From behind the separating surface, the cashier looked quite terrified, taking a step away. "Hi. May I please get a turkey club on wheat with a chocolate chip cookie and a bottle of water?"

Slowly, the woman nodded and pressed the buttons on the machine. "Twelve-fifty please," she whimpered. Emily's eyebrows rose.

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that," she apologized, though she pulled a slim wallet from her back pocket anyway. Whatever the price, that was where her money was.

"T-twelve-fifty," the opposite repeated louder.

Nodding, Emily handed her a ten and three ones. When the woman attempted passing back fifty cents, the teen shook her head. "Keep the change. And, an extra two tip dollars for the scene. Sorry about that," she apologized, shelling out a few more bills to drop in the jar. The woman nodded back and Em was handed a number to wait.

"That was interesting," Wyatt commented as she came to stop by him as he retrieved his meal. Emily shrugged.

"It was what it was. I am hungry and she was in my way of food. You can't just cut in line."

"Especially not in front of you?" he asked, amused.

"Especially not in front of me."

"You're something special, Emily," he commented.

"I know I am," she responded. Her order came up and she smiled brightly. "Finally! Food!" Taking the bag in hand, excitement grew. Her stomach grumbled lower now with anticipation. The scent teased her and she salivated. Now she just needed a place to eat.

"Would you like to join me at a table?" Wyatt asked. Just as Emily's lips parted to graciously accept, her cell phone began to blare. A frustrated growl ripped from chest and she answered.

"Hello?"

"_Emily? Where are you? Gustavo's mad."_ It was Kelly. _Frick…_

"I thought you were at Rocque Records and Gustavo was at the Palm Woods," the teen said.

"_He called me to shout about you taking forever. Seriously, though, I'd hurry back. He actually enjoys firing people."_

"Hint taken. I'm on my way right now." She hung up, not bothering with goodbye. There was apparently no time. "Sorry," she addressed Wyatt. "I gotta go. Work calls." And then she was sprinting, literally sprinting, out of the building and down the street, racing towards Mrs. Knight's car. Keys jangled in one back pocket. The bag in her hand bounced up and down in a tight grip.

_Riiiip_. That was the bag tearing. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ That was Emily's lunch rolling into the street. "No!" she shouted, as if it would change the situation. "Frick!" That was not only fifteen dollars wasted, but it was her food. Aware of the loss, her stomach gave an anguished cry. But there was no time to even try to save the dropped goodies. She was in trouble and might seriously need to collect Kendall's soul this time. Leaving the lunch behind, she kept sprinting at her glorious, silent speed. The teen practically dove into the car.

* * *

><p>Parking in record speed and again sprinting, Emily was to Gustavo before fifteen minutes had had a chance to pass.<p>

"_Intern!_" he practically screamed. "Where are my batteries?"

Immediately, she began to pat down pocket after pocket, searching for the elusive power source. _Batteries… batteries… where are the batter- oh frick. I hate you, Knight._ She had never purchased the triple A's. How stupid! How asinine! How death wish-y!

"I must have left them in the rental car," Emily lied smoothly. "I'll be right back."

"Hurry up! Or you're fired!"

"Yes, Mr. Rocque!"

She was sprinting again, this time up to her apartment. There had to be the right size batteries somewhere in there. Slamming the door open, she didn't bother to close it. Instead, she practically dove on the couch, reaching for the television remote. Popping off the back, she sighed a relieved sigh. Triple A's. Pulling the two out, she curled her fingers around them and reached for the BluRay remote. That, too, had two triple A batteries. As she sprinted back out, she stopped at the doorway.

"Grammy!" she shouted in. "I took the batteries from the television! Emily, your granddaughter, took the batteries for the remote for the television because I need them for work for a microphone. Buy more later! Change channel by hand! Bye! Love you!" There. She had explained herself like the doctor had said. Whether or not her grandmother had actually heard any of that was irrelevant. Those batteries needed to get back to the set immediately.

The elevator slow, Emily darted around the corner and took the stairs, a dangerous two at a time and bolted back to Gustavo. Panting, she held them out.

"I got… the batteries," her short sentence was punctuated by heavy breaths.

"Too late!" Gustavo bellowed. "Someone else, who isn't a disappointing fail, already brought batteries!"

That really was disappointing.

"Well, if that's true, then can I take a lunch break?" Emily requested sheepishly. Activity and a lack of fuel in her stomach made a nasty combination.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, sure. Go ahead," Gustavo responded. "No! You cannot! Make your friend, _that dog_, behave!"

Apparently James had been stalling, too.

* * *

><p>This apartment was <em>amazing<em>. The swirly slide was cool. The designs were awesome. The TV and game systems were sick. Dome hockey was fun and an actual, working driving arcade game in the place? Unbelievable! Forget work and forget interning. For the moment, Emily Greene was just like the boys. A sixteen year old teenager overcome with awe by the place. Gustavo shouting didn't even register in her mind it was so cool.

"It came out amazing!" Kendall commented, wearing such a beautifully happy smile.

"Swirly slide!" Carlos cried and threw on his helmet. With Katie, he "Woohoo!"ed and they took their first turn together.

"There's no time to move the set back to the studio," Kelly stated. "And the video has to be great for Fujisaki or _we_ are out of a job."

"This dome hockey is awesome!" Emily commented to Kendall, the two playing an experimental game. Until Mr. Big Man, moaning and groaning in disbelief, walked up to Kendall and grabbed the grinning boy by the shoulders.

"Light it and _shoot iiit!_"

The recording went off without a hitch. Although the boys were trouble, everyone had to admit that they had talent and they were great performers, getting better every time. Dancing had clearly improved.

Satisfied, the boys laughed and congratulated one another. Merriment was cut short again by Gustavo.

"Cut! Print! And strike the set!"

The five faces fell and all of the people who had built up the room to such an amazing thing started tearing it down. All of that hard work for nothing?

"Hey, where are you going with that?" Kendall asked. "Where are you going with that?"

"Back to the warehouse," the blond woman replied, making it seem like it was so obvious. Then again, maybe it was. Emily did recall thinking something about the set being non-real and non-permanent when they had first seen the drawing. But after it had become so substantial, it hurt to see. It hurt to see what the boys had worked for literally coming down before their eyes.

"Not the couch!" Kendall cried.

"Come on!" James frowned.

Quite unhappy, Emily threw an arm around each of their tall shoulders.

"Oh I'm sorry," Gustavo said callously. "Did you dogs think you were going to get to keep this stuff?" Adding insult to injury. Rubbing salt in the wound. It was cruel. Just like his laughter.

"Swirly!" Carlos let out a tortured scream as the beloved plastic was torn away.

"Oh that's really, really good." The music producer refused to stop. "The little dogs thought they outsmarted the big dog." His classlessness became more disgustingly apparent as he began barking at the boys under Emily's awkward arms.

"Take down that cool thing," he instructed.

It was horrible. The transformation back to an apartment hell completed and the teens fell back onto the couch that collapsed beneath their weight again.

"But I do have to admit, we did get some pretty great stuff today. Let's just hope Fujisaki thinks so tomorrow."

Because if Fujisaki didn't think so? They were all out of a job and this apartment fiasco would be the least of their sorrows.

* * *

><p>Emily ate.<p>

It wasn't an awesome sandwich from a new sandwich shop.

She was sad.

* * *

><p>The next day arrived. It was time to show Fujisaki the video. Emily was anxious and barely bothered to be irritated with the wearing of a skirt again. Big Time Rush played on screen and Mr. Ancient streamed from a screen across the table. He looked dead. The boys looked so alive.<p>

The video ended. Everyone directed their attention to Fujisaki. His decision meant everything.

"I like the boys."

"Yeah!" The five teenagers immediately cheered, jumping with excitement. High fives all around. A few people gave the boys hugs as they made their way out of the room, all relieved that their jobs were in tact as well.

"I've never seen Fujisaki so excited," Griffin commented. "Frankly, I think it's the first time I've seen him move. You were a good boy today, Gustavo." Mr. CEO grasped Mr. Not So Big Right Now's face. "Good boy." The way Griffin said it sounded like he was talking to a dog. It was so perfect Emily had to laugh and had to bite her lip to stifle the sound.

"So," Kendall said as Gustavo approached, "we learned a lot here today, didn't we? You did some things. We did some things."

"Ten hours of harmonies, no breaks! Move out!"

The happy atmosphere of success was pushed away by something much less happy. Heads hung in resignation, the boys walked away. Before an order could be issued to Emily, she had something she needed to do.

"Gustavo! Yesterday, the battery money. I forgot to give it back," she said.

"Then, _give it back_!" he shouted, holding a hand out, glaring beneath his sunglasses.

"Hold on two seconds," Emily said. Wearing a skirt and not a purse user, Emily hadn't had a "normal" place to carry the cash. And so she stuck her hand brazenly down her shirt and into her bra. After a moment of tugging and tucking, her hand reappeared, money caught between her fingers.

"Was that just…?"

Gustavo clearly had no words, red in the face. Emily assumed he was embarrassed. For some reason, a lot of people tended to react that way.

"In my bra? Yeah. I didn't have a pocket."

"Keep it," he stated.

"Keep it? But I can't keep it. My contract specifically states that I'm not supposed to take money because then my work is work and not interning. If I take money, then my internship is discontinued, unless it is issued as a special thank you bonus for some amazing work."

"Then it's a bonus."

"But I haven't done amazing work."

"No, you have not. But you will! Today! I expect you to organize all of my filing. _All_ of my filing."

Emily had seen that filing before. It had no organization. It was going to take hours and Emily was no organizer. She groaned.

"Now!"

At least she had money.

* * *

><p>When work ended that day, heads were still down. Although Emily had had half a chance of being happy, having counted the eighty dollars, the depression all four boys exuded had kept her from feeling up. It was impossible. When your best friends were depressed, you had to be, too. And, like usual, not ready to return to Grammy, she followed them into 2J.<p>

It was amazing again.

"Hey!" Katie greeted, popping out of the bottom of the slide.

"Well, I love what you've done with the place," Mrs. Knight said from a comfortable seat on a _more _than five seater couch. There was the happy, cheeriness again.

"Uh…" Was that Gustavo's voice? Kendall, Carlos, Logan, Emily and James whipped towards him. "Good job today."

"This is awesome," Kendall smiled.

"This. Is a bone," Gustavo said.

"Come again?" Logan politely asked.

"I realized today, sort of, that if you really want to train dogs properly, you need to throw them a treat now and then. So, enjoy your treat. You're not getting any more."

"And we lost a day of rehearsal because of the shoot," Kelly said, "So it's at the studio, seven thirty a.m. for all of you."

"We'll be there, no problem," Kendall assured.

"We promise! No more surprises!" Carlos added.

Whatever that cracking, banging noise was, Emily decided that it couldn't be good, though why the boys were so scared, she couldn't imagine. Whatever it was, they could handle. Except maybe Bitters who burst through the drywall into the apartment.

"You've altered this room," Mr. Sleaze said, staring around. "You've completely devastated this apartment."

"Devastated?" Emily repeated. "Please. We just saved it." Though she really wanted to know why the heck Bitters had been wherever he had come from.

"You locked him in the supply closet?" Logan spat at James through gritted teeth.

"No," the pretty boy shook his head. "Bandana Man did." And there was a purple bandana suddenly in his hand.

"Who?" Emily asked. She loved James, but sometimes he was a bit of a freak (though she knew she wasn't one to talk). Before The Face could speak, Bitters was at it again.

"This is a total lease violation!" He paused. "Man. Cool swirly slide." Then he was back to angry again. "I want all of you out of here tomorrow! You, too! You're as bad as them!" He pointed a finger at Emily.

"My lease wasn't violated!" she shot back, fingers curling into fists. If he was kicking her out for no reason, her fist was meeting his face. No questions asked.

"What if I add another grand to your Making It Happen fee?" Kelly asked, tearing out another check.

With a smile and lame laugh, Bitters took the money promising paper. "Have a Palm Woods day everyone. Enjoy your stay."

Immediately, the five were back at the dome hockey game, fighting over the four spots. It was just like it always was. They were happy.

**A/N: Thank you time! Thank you al3xasara for favoriting. Thank you ImprecantesStellam for the most amazing review I've ever received and continual support. It means a lot. : ) Thank you stillmotion for subscribing. Thank you Baby BulletProof for the review. Thank you lolsmileyface6 for favoriting and reviewing. And thank you .Dorinte who did pretty much every positive thing for this story a member can do. : ) It made my day to open my email and see a zillion messages from Fanfiction regarding Poetic. And thank you nameless readers because it always makes me happy to see hits and visitors every single day. Now! Real note time! I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts about Grammy and Wyatt. They will be making more appearances during the story. I am happy to report that this chapter isn't as long as last chapter! Yay! Only thirty-five pages! Haha. All information regarding vascular dementia was taken from online sources. I have no experience with it myself, so my portrayal is probably wonky, but I want Grammy to be wonky. There isn't much for me to say this time except sorry for the late post! I had intended to finish this and have it up a week ago. My bad! Hope you can all forgive me!**

**And poor Emily never got her sandwich. Well! That will change. : ) I intend to write a one shot related to the sandwich. I wanted to put it in this chapter, but it just didn't fit. So, look out for that sometime this week! It won't be nearly as long as a chapter. : ) Thank you for faithfully reading! - N.E..out**


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